THE FASHIONABLE ADVENTURES OF JOSHUA CRAIG

A NOVEL

BY DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS

CONTENTS

 I. --MR. CRAIG ARRAYS HIMSELF II. --IN THE BEST SOCIETY III. --A DESPERATE YOUNG WOMAN IV. --"HE ISN'T LIKE US" V. --ALMOST HOOKED VI. --MR. CRAIG IN SWEET DANGER VII. --MRS. SEVERENCE IS ROUSED VIII. --MR. CRAIG CONFIDES IX. --SOMEWHAT CYCLONIC X. --A BELATED PROPOSAL XI. --MADAM BOWKER HEARS THE NEWS XII. --PUTTING DOWN A MUTINY XIII. --A MEMORABLE MEETING XIV. --MAGGIE AND JOSH XV. --THE EMBASSY GARDEN PARTY XVI. --A FIGHT AND A FINISH XVII. --A NIGHT MARCHXVIII. --PEACE AT ANY PRICE XIX. --MADAM BOWKER'S BLESSING XX. -MR. CRAIG KISSES THE IDOL'S FOOT XXI. --A SWOOP AND A SCRATCH XXII. --GETTING ACQUAINTEDXXIII. --WHAT THE MOON SAW AND DID XXIV. --"OUR HOUSE IS AFIRE" XXV. --MRS. JOSHUA CRAIG

THE FASHIONABLE ADVENTURES OF JOSHUA CRAIG

CHAPTER I

MR. CRAIG ARRAYS HIMSELF

It was one of the top-floor-rear flats in the Wyandotte, notmerely biggest of Washington's apartment hotels, but also "mostexclusive"--which is the elegant way of saying most expensive. TheWyandotte had gone up before landlords grasped the obvious truththat in a fire-proof structure locations farthest from noise anddust should and could command highest prices; so Joshua Craig'sflat was the cheapest in the house. The ninety dollars a monthloomed large in his eyes, focused to little-town ideas of values;it was, in fact, small for shelter in "the de luxe district of thede luxe quarter, " to quote Mrs. Senator Mulvey, that simple, far-Western soul, who, finding snobbishness to be the chiefdistinguishing mark of the Eastern upper classes, assumed it was avirtue, acquired it laboriously, and practiced it as openly andproudly as a preacher does piety. Craig's chief splendor was asitting-room, called a parlor and bedecked in the red plush andNottingham that represent hotel men's probably shrewd guess at thetraveling public's notion of interior opulence. Next the sitting-room, and with the same dreary outlook, or, rather, downlook, upondisheveled and squalid back yards, was a dingy box of a bedroom. Like the parlor, it was outfitted with furniture that haddegenerated upward, floor by floor, from the spacious andluxurious first-floor suites. Between the two rooms, in darkmustiness, lay a bathroom with suspicious-looking, wood-inclosedplumbing; the rusted iron of the tub peered through scuffs andseams in the age-grayed porcelain. 

Arkwright glanced from the parlor where he was sitting into thegloom of the open bathroom and back again. His cynical brown-greeneyes paused upon a scatter of clothing, half-hiding the badly-rubbed red plush of the sofa--a mussy flannel nightshirt withmothholes here and there; kneed trousers, uncannily reminiscent ofa rough and strenuous wearer; a smoking-jacket that, after ayouth of cheap gayety, was now a frayed and tattered wreck, likean old tramp, whose "better days" were none too good. On theradiator stood a pair of wrinkled shoes that had never knowntrees; their soles were curved like rockers. An old pipe clamoredat his nostrils, though it was on the table near the window, thefull length of the room from him. Papers and books were strewnabout everywhere. It was difficult to believe these unkempt anduncouth surroundings, and the personality that had created them, were actually being harbored behind the walls of the Wyandotte. 

"What a hole!" grumbled Arkwright. He was in evening clothes, socorrect in their care and in their carelessness that even a womanwould have noted and admired. "What a mess! What a hole!"

"How's that?" came from the bedroom in an aggressive voice, sopenetrating that it seemed loud, though it was not, and muchroughened by open-air speaking. "What are you growling about?"

Arkwright raised his tone: "Filthy hole!" said he. "Filthy mess!"

Now appeared in the bedroom door a tall young man of unusualstrength and nearly perfect proportions. The fine head was carriedcommandingly; with its crop of dark, matted hair it suggested therude, fierce figure-head of a Viking galley; the huge, aggressively-masculine features proclaimed ambition, energy, intelligence. To see Josh Craig was to have instant sense of thepresence of a personality. The contrast between him standing half-dressed in the doorway and the man seated in fashionable andcynically-critical superciliousness was more than a matter ofexteriors. Arkwright, with features carved, not hewn as wereCraig's, handsome in civilization's over-trained, overbredextreme, had an intelligent, superior look also. But it was thelook of expertness in things hardly worth the trouble of learning;it was aristocracy's highly-prized air of the dog that leads inthe bench show and tails in the field. He was like a firearmpolished and incrusted with gems and hanging in a connoisseur'swall-case; Josh was like a battle-tested rifle in the sinewy handsof an Indian in full war-paint. Arkwright showed that he hadphysical strength, too; but it was of the kind got at thegymnasium and at gentlemanly sport--the kind that wins only wherethe rules are carefully refined and amateurized. Craig's figurehad the solidity, the tough fiber of things grown in the open air, in the cold, wet hardship of the wilderness. 

Arkwright's first glance of admiration for this figure of theforest and the teepee changed to a mingling of amusement andirritation. The barbarian was not clad in the skins of wildbeasts, which would have set him off superbly, but was trying toget himself arrayed for a fashionable ball. He had on eveningtrousers, pumps, black cotton socks with just enough silk woven into give them the shabby, shamed air of having been caught in asnobbish pretense at being silk. He was buttoning a shirt tornstraight down the left side of the bosom from collar-band to endof tail; and the bosom had the stiff, glassy glaze that advertisesthe cheap laundry. 

"Didn't you write me I must get an apartment in this house?"demanded he. 

"Not in the attic, " rejoined Arkwright. 

"I can't afford anything better. "

"You can't afford anything so bad. "

"Bad!"

Craig looked round as pleased as a Hottentot with a string ofcolored glass beads. "Why, I've got a private sitting-room AND aprivate bath! I never was so well-off before in my life. I tellyou, Grant, I'm not surprised any more that you Easterners geteffete and worthless. I begin to like this lolling in luxury, andI keep the bell-boys on the jump. Won't you have something todrink?"

Arkwright pointed his slim cane at the rent in the shirt. "Whatare you going to do with that?" said he. 

"This? Oh!"--Josh thrust his thick backwoods-man's hand in thetear--"Very simple. A safety-pin or so from the lining of thevest--excuse me, waistcoat--into the edge of the bosom. "

"Splendid!" ejaculated Arkwright. "Superb!"

Craig, with no scent for sarcasm so delicate, pushed on withenthusiasm: "The safety-pin's the mainstay of bachelor life, " saidhe rhetorically. "It's his badge of freedom. Why, I can evenrepair socks with it!"

"Throw that shirt away, " said Arkwright, with a contemptuousswitch of his cane. "Put on another. You're not dressing for ashindy in a shack. "

"But it's the only one of my half-dozen that has a bang-up bosom. "

"Bang-up? That sheet of mottled mica?"

Craig surveyed the shiny surface ruefully. "What's the matter withthis?" he demanded. 

"Oh, nothing, " replied Arkwright, in disgust. "Only, it looks morelike something to roof a house with than like linen for acivilized man. "

Craig reared. "But, damn it, Grant, I'm not civilized. I'm a wildman, and I'm going to stay wild. I belong to the common people, and it's my game--and my preference, too--to stick to them. I'mwilling to make concessions; I'm not a fool. I know there was acertain amount of truth in those letters you took the trouble towrite me from Europe. I know that to play the game here inWashington I've got to do something in society. But"--here Josh'seyes flashed, and he bent on his friend a look that wasimpressive--"I'm still going to be myself. I'll make 'em accept meas I am. Dealing with men as individuals, I make them do what _I_want, make 'em like me as I am. "

"Every game has its own rules, " said Arkwright. "You'll get onbetter--quicker--go further--here if you'll learn a few elementarythings. I don't see that wearing a whole shirt decently done up isgoing to compromise any principles. Surely you can do that andstill be as common as you like. The people look up to the fellowthat's just a little better dressed than they. "

Josh eyed Arkwright in the way that always made him wonder whetherhe was in full possession of the secret of this strenuous youngWesterner. "But, " said he, "they love and trust the man who willhave nothing which all may not have. The shirt will do for thisevening. " And he turned back into the bedroom. 

Arkwright reflected somewhat uncomfortably. He felt that hehimself was right; yet he could not deny that "Josh's cheapdemagoguery" sounded fine and true. He soon forgot the argument inthe study of his surroundings. "You're living like a wild beasthere, Josh, " he presently called out. "You must get a valet. "

A loud laugh was the reply. 

"Or a wife, " continued Arkwright. Then, in the voice of oneannouncing an inspiration, "Yes--that's it! A wife!"

Craig reappeared. He had on his waistcoat and coat now, and hishair was brushed. Arkwright could not but admit that thepersonality took the edge off the clothes; even the "mottledmica"--the rent was completely hid--seemed to have lost the worstof its glaze and stiffness. "You'll do, Josh, " said he. "I spoketoo quickly. If I hadn't accidentally been thrust into theinnermost secrets of your toilet I'd never have suspected. " Helooked the Westerner over with gentle, friendly patronage. "Yes, you'll do. You look fairly well at a glance--and a man's clothesrarely get more than that. "

Craig released his laugh upon his fastidious friend's judicialseriousness. "The trouble with you, Grant, is you've never lived ahuman life. You've always been sheltered and pampered, lifted inand out of bed by valets, had a suit of clothes for every hour inthe day. I don't see how it is I happen to like you. " And inCraig's face and voice there was frankly the condescension ofsuperior to undoubted inferior. 

Arkwright seemed to be wavering between resentment and amuseddisdain. Then he remembered the circumstances of their firstacquaintance--those frightful days in the Arizona desert, withoutfood, with almost no water, and how this man had been absoluteruler of the party of lost and dying men; how he had forced themto march on and on, with entreaties, with curses, with blowsfinally; how he had brought them to safety--all as a matter ofcourse, without any vanity or boasting--had been leader by divineright of strength of body and soul. Grant turned his eyes fromCraig, for there were tears in them. "I don't see why you like me, either, Josh, " said he. "But you do--and--damn it all, I'd die foryou. "

"I guess you'll come pretty near dying of shame before thisevening's over, " laughed Craig. "This is the first time in my lifeI ever was in a fashionable company. "

"There's nothing to be frightened about, " Grant assured him. 

"Frightened!" Josh laughed boisterously--Arkwright could havewished he would temper that laugh. "I--frightened by a bunch ofpopinjays? You see, it's not really in the least important whetherthey like me or not--at least, not to me. I'll get there, anyhow. And when I do, I'll deal with them according to their deserts. Sothey'd better hustle to get solid with me. "

In the two years since he had seen Craig, Arkwright had almostforgotten his habit of bragging and blowing about himself--what hehad done, what he was going to do. The newspapers, the clippingsJosh sent him, had kept him informed of the young Minnesotan'ssteady, rapid rise in politics; and whenever he recalled theabsurd boasting that had made him feel Craig would never come toanything, he assumed it was a weakness of youth and inexperiencewhich had, no doubt, been conquered. But, no; here was the sameold, conceited Josh, as crudely and vulgarly self-confident aswhen he was twenty-five and just starting at the law in a countrytown. Yet Arkwright could not but admit there had been more than agrain of truth in Craig's former self-laudations, that there wasin victories won a certain excuse for his confidence about thefuture. This young man, not much beyond thirty, with a personalityso positive and so rough that he made enemies right and left, rousing the envy of men to fear that here was an ambition whichmust be downed or it would become a tyranny over them--this youngman, by skill at politics and by sympathetic power with people inthe mass, had already compelled a President who didn't like him toappoint him to the chief post under an Attorney-General whodetested him. 

"How are you getting on with the Attorney-General?" askedArkwright, as they set out in his electric brougham. 

"He's getting on with me much better, " replied Craig, "now that hehas learned not to trifle with me. "

"Stillwater is said to be a pretty big man, " said Arkwrightwarningly. 

"The bigger the man, the easier to frighten, " replied Joshcarelessly, "because the more he's got to lose. But it's a wasteof time to talk politics to you. Grant, old man, I'm sick and wornout, and how lonesome! I'm successful. But what of that, since I'mmiserable? If it wasn't for my sense of duty, by Heaven, Isometimes think I'd drop it all and go back to Wayne. "

"Don't do that, Josh!" exclaimed Arkwright. "Don't let the countrygo rolling off to ruin!"

"Like all small creatures, " said Craig, "you take serious matterslightly, and light matters seriously. You right a moment ago whenyou said I needed a wife. "

"That's all settled, " said Grant. "I'm going to get you one. "

"A woman doesn't need a man--if she isn't too lazy to earn aliving, " pursued Craig. "But what's a man without a woman about?"

"You want a wife, and you want her quick, " said Arkwright. 

"You saw what a condition my clothes are in. Then, I need somebodyto talk with. "

"To talk to, " corrected Grant. 

"I can't have you round all the time to talk to. "

"Heaven forbid!" cried Arkwright. "You never talk about anythingbut yourself. "

"Some day, my boy, " said Josh, with his grave good humor of thegreat man tolerating the antics of a mountebank, "you'llappreciate it wasn't the subject that was dull, but the ears. Forthe day'll come when everybody'll be thinking and talking about memost of the time. "

Arkwright grinned. "It's lucky you don't let go before everybodylike that. "

"Yes, but I do, " rejoined Craig. "And why not? They can't stop mygoing ahead. Besides, it's not a bad idea"--he nodded, with thatshrewdness which was the great, deep-lying vein in his nature--"not at all a bad idea, to have people think you a frank, loose-mouthed, damn fool--IF you ain't. Ambition's a war. And it's atremendous advantage to lead your enemies to underestimate you. That's one reason why I ALWAYS win. .. So you're going TO TRY to getme a wife?"

"I'm going to get you one--one of the sort you need. You need awoman who'll tame you down and lick you into shape. "

Craig smiled scornfully. 

"One who'll know how to smooth the enemies you make with yourrough-and-tumble manners; one who'll win friends for you socially--"

Josh made a vehement gesture of dissent. "Not on your life!" criedhe. "Of course, my wife must be a lady, and interested in mycareer. But none of your meddling politicians in petticoats forme! I'll do my own political maneuvering. I want a woman, not abad imitation of a man. "

"Well, let that go, " said Arkwright. "Also, she ought to be ableto supply you with funds for your political machinery. "

Josh sat up as if this were what he had been listening for. 

"That's right!" cried he. "Politics is hell for a poor man, nowadays. The people are such thoughtless, short-sighted fools--"He checked himself, and in a different tone went on: "However, Idon't mean exactly that--"

"You needn't hedge, Josh, with me. "

"I don't want you to be thinking I'm looking for a rich woman. "

"Not at all--not at all, " laughed his friend. 

"If she had too much money it'd be worse for my career than if shehad none at all. "

"I understand, " said Arkwright. 

"Enough money to make me independent--if I should get in a tightplace, " continued Josh. "Yes, I must marry. The people aresuspicious of a bachelor. The married men resent his freedom--eventhe happily married ones. And all the women, married and single, resent his not surrendering. "

"I never suspected you of cynicism. "

"Yes, " continued Craig, in an instantly and radically changedtone, "the people like a married man, a man with children. Itlooks respectable, settled. It makes 'em feel he's got a stake inthe country--a home and property to defend. Yes, I want a wife. "

"I don't see why you've neglected it so long. "

"Too busy. "

"And too--ambitious, " suggested Arkwright. 

"What do you mean?" demanded Josh, bristling. 

"You thought you'd wait to marry until you were nearer your finalplace in the world. Being cut out for a king, you know--why, youthought you'd like a queen--one of those fine, delicate ladiesyou'd read about. "

Craig's laugh might have been confession, it might have been mereamusement. "I want a wife that suits me, " said he. "And I'll gether. "

It was Arkwright's turn to be amused. "There's one game you don'tin the least understand, " said he. 

"What game is that?"

"The woman game. "

Craig shrugged contemptuously. "Marbles! Jacks!" Then he added:"Now that I'm about ready to marry, I'll look the offerings over. "He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "And you can bet your lastcent I'll take what I want. "

"Don't be too sure, " jeered Arkwright. 

The brougham was passing a street lamp that for an instantilluminated Craig's face. Again Arkwright saw the expression thatmade him feel extremely uncertain of the accuracy of his estimatesof the "wild man's" character. 

"Yes, I'll get her, " said Josh, "and for a reason that neveroccurs to you shallow people. I get what I want because what Iwant wants me--for the same reason that the magnet gets thesteel. "

Arkwright looked admiringly at his friend's strong, aggressiveface. 

"You're a queer one, Josh, " said he. "Nothing ordinary about you. "

"I should hope not!" exclaimed Craig. "Now for the plunge. "

CHAPTER II

IN THE BEST SOCIETY

Grant's electric had swung in at the end of the long line ofcarriages of all kinds, from coach of ambassador and costlylimousine of multi-millionaire to humble herdic wherein poor, official grandee's wife and daughter were feeling almost as commonas if they had come in a street car or afoot. Josh Craig, leaningfrom the open window, could see the grand entrance under the wideand lofty porte-cochere--the women, swathed in silk and fur, descending from the carriages and entering the wide-flung doors ofthe vestibule; liveries, flowers, lights, sounds of stringedinstruments, intoxicating glimpses of magnificence at windows, high and low. And now the electric was at the door. He andArkwright sprang out, hastened up the broad steps. His expressionamused Arkwright; it was intensely self-conscious, resolutelyindifferent--the kind of look that betrays tempestuous inwardperturbations and misgivings. "Josh is a good deal of a snob, forall his brave talk, " thought he. "But, " he went on to reflect, "that's only human. We're all impressed by externals, no matterwhat we may pretend to ourselves and to others. I've been used tothis sort of thing all my life and I know how little there is init, yet I'm in much the same state of bedazzlement as Josh. "

Josh had a way of answering people's thoughts direct whichArkwright sometimes suspected was not altogether accidental. Henow said: "But there's a difference between your point of view andmine. You take this seriously through and through. I laugh at itin the bottom of my heart, and size it up at its true value. I'mlike a child that don't really believe in goblins, yet likes theshivery effects of goblin stories. "

"I don't believe in goblins, either, " said Arkwright. 

"You don't believe in anything else, " said Josh. 

Arkwright steered him through the throng, and up to the hostess--Mrs. Burke, stout, honest, with sympathy in her eyes and humor inthe lines round her sweet mouth. "Well, Josh, " she said in a slow, pleasant monotone, "you HAVE done a lot of growing since I sawyou. I always knew you'd come to some bad end. And here you are--in politics and in society. Gus!"

A tall, haughty-looking young woman, standing next her, turned andfixed upon Craig a pair of deep, deep eyes that somehow flusteredhim. Mrs. Burke presented him, and he discovered that it was herdaughter-in-law. While she was talking with Arkwright, he examinedher toilette. He thought it startling--audacious in its display ofshoulders and back--until he got over his dazed, dazzled feeling, and noted the other women about. Wild horses could not havedragged it from him, but he felt that this physical display wasextremely immodest; and at the same time that he eagerly lookedhis face burned. "If I do pick one of these, " said he to himself, "I'm jiggered if I let her appear in public dressed this way. Why, out home women have been white-capped for less. "

Arkwright had drifted away from him; he let the crowd gently pushhim toward the wall, into the shelter of a clump of palms andferns. There, with his hands in his pockets, and upon his facewhat he thought an excellent imitation of Arkwright's easy, boredexpression of thinly-veiled cynicism, he surveyed the scene andtried to judge it from the standpoint of the "common people. " Hisverdict was that it was vain, frivolous, unworthy, beneath theserious consideration of a man of affairs such as he. But he feltthat he was not quite frank, in fact was dishonest, with himselfin this lofty disdain. It represented what he ought to feel, notwhat he actually was feeling. "At least, " said he to himself, "I'll never confess to any one that I'm weak enough to beimpressed by this sort of thing. Anyhow, to confess a weakness isto encourage it. .. No wonder society is able to suck in anddestroy so many fellows of my sort! If _I_ am tempted what must itmean to the ordinary man?" He noted with angry shame that he felta swelling of pride because he, of so lowly an origin, born nobetter than the machine-like lackeys, had been able to pushhimself in upon--yes, up among--these people on terms of equality. And it was, for the moment, in vain that he reminded himself thatmost of them were of full as lowly origin as he; that few indeedcould claim to be more than one generation removed from jack-bootsand jeans; that the most elegant had more relations among the"vulgar herd" than they had among the "high folks. "

"What are you looking so glum and sour about?" asked Arkwright. 

He startled guiltily. So, his mean and vulgar thoughts had beenreflected in his face. "I was thinking of the case I have to trybefore the Supreme Court next week, " said he. 

"Well, I'll introduce you to one of the Justices--old Towler. Hecomes of the 'common people, ' like you. But he dearly lovesfashionable society--makes himself ridiculous going to balls andtrying to flirt. It'll do you no end of good to meet these peoplesocially. You'll be surprised to see how respectful and eagerthey'll all be if you become a recognized social favorite. Forreal snobbishness give me your friends, the common people, whenthey get up where they can afford to put on airs. Why, even thePresident has a sneaking hankering after fashionable people. Itell you, in Washington EVERYTHING goes by social favor, just asit does in London--and would in Paris if fashionable society woulddeign to notice the Republic. "

"Introduce me to old Towler, " said Craig, curt and bitter. He wasbeginning to feel that Arkwright was at least in part right; andit angered him for the sake of the people from whom he had sprung, and to whom he had pledged his public career. "Then, " he went on, "I'm going home. And you'll see me among these butterflies andhoptoads no more. "

"Can't trust yourself, eh?" suggested Arkwright. 

Craig flashed exaggerated scorn that was confession. 

"I'll do better than introduce you to Towler, " proceededArkwright. "I'll present you to his daughter--a dyed and paddedold horror, but very influential with her father and all the oldercrowd. Sit up to her, Josh. You can lay the flattery on as thickas her paint and as high as her topknot of false hair. If shetakes to you your fortune's made. "

"I tell you, my fortune is not dependent on--" began Craigvehemently. 

"Cut it out, old man, " interrupted Arkwright. "No stump speecheshere. They don't go. They bore people and create an impressionthat you're both ridiculous and hypocritical. "

Arkwright left Josh with Towler's daughter, Mrs. Raymond, who wasby no means the horror Arkwright's language of fashionableexaggeration had pictured, and who endured Craig's sophomoriceulogies of "your great and revered father, " because the eulogistwas young and handsome, and obviously anxious to please her. AsArkwright passed along the edge of the dancers a fan reached outand touched him on the arm. He halted, faced the double line ofwomen, mostly elderly, seated on the palm-roofed dais extendingthe length of that end of the ballroom. 

"Hel-LO!" called he. "Just the person I was looking for. How isMargaret this evening?"

"As you see, " replied the girl, unfurling the long fan of eagleplumes with which she had tapped him. "Sit down. .. . Jackie"--thisto a rosy, eager-faced youth beside her--"run away and amuseyourself. I want to talk seriously to this elderly person. "

"I'm only seven years older than you, " said Arkwright, as heseated himself where Jackie had been vainly endeavoring to induceMiss Severence to take him seriously. 

"And I am twenty-eight, and have to admit to twenty-four, " saidMargaret. 

"Don't frown that way. It makes wrinkles; and what's moreunsightly than a wrinkled brow in a woman?"

"I don't in the least care, " replied the girl. "I've made up mymind to stop fooling and marry. "

"Jackie?"

"If I can't do better. " She laughed a low, sweet laugh, like hervoice; and her voice suggested a leisurely brook flitting amongmossy stones. "You see, I've lost that first bloom of youth thewife-pickers prize so highly. I'm not unsophisticated enough toplease them. And I haven't money enough to make them overlook suchdefects as maturity and intelligence--in fact, I've no money atall. "

"You were never so good-looking in your life, " said Grant. "Irecall you were rather homely as a child and merely nice andfresh-looking when you came out. You're one of those that improvewith time. "

"Thanks, " said the girl dryly. She was in no mood for the barrenblossom of non-marrying men's compliments. 

"The trouble with you is the same as with me, " pursued he. "We'veboth spent our time with the young married set, where marriage isregarded as a rather stupid joke. You ought to have stuck to themarket-place until your business was settled. "

She nodded a thoughtful assent. "Yes, that was my sad mistake, "said she. "However, I'm going to do my best to repair it. "

He reflected. "You must marry money, " he declared, as if it were averdict. 

"Either some one who's got it or some one who can get it. "

"Some one who's got it, I'd advise. "

"Bad advice, " commented the girl, her hazel eyes gazing dreamily, languorously into the distance. She looked a woman on romancebent, a woman without a mercenary thought in her head. "Very badadvice, " she went on. "Men who've got money may lose it and beunable to make any more. What a helpless thing YOU'D be but forwhat you have inherited and will inherit. Yet you're above theaverage of our sort. "

"Humph!" said Arkwright, with an irritated laugh. Humor at hisexpense was a severe strain upon him. It always is to those whosesense of humor is keen; for they best appreciate the sting thatlies in the pleasantest jest. 

"It would be wiser--if one dared be wise, " pursued the girl, "tomarry a man who could get money. That kind of man is safest. Onlydeath or insanity can make him a disappointment. "

Arkwright eyed her curiously. "What a good head you've got on you, Rita, " said he. "Like your grandmother. "

The girl shivered slightly. "Don't SPEAK of her!" she exclaimedwith an uneasy glance around. And Grant knew he was correct in hissuspicion as to who was goading and lashing her to hasten intomatrimony. 

"Well--have you selected your--"

As Arkwright hesitated she supplied, "Victim. " They laughed, sheless enthusiastically than he. "Though, " she added, "I assure you, I'll make him happy. It takes intelligence to make a man happy, even if he wants the most unintelligent kind of happiness. Andyou've just admitted I'm not stupid. "

Arkwright was studying her. He had a sly instinct that there was areason deeper than their old and intimate friendship for herreposing this extreme of confidence in him. No doubt she was notwithout a vague hope that possibly this talk might set him tothinking of her as a wife for himself. Well, why not? He ought tomarry, and he could afford it. Where would he find a more ladylikeperson--or where one who was at the same time so attractive? Hestudied, with a certain personal interest, her delicate face, herfigure, slim and gracefully curved, as her evening dress fullyrevealed it. Yes, a charming, most ladylike figure. And the skinof her face, of neck and shoulders, was beautifully white, and ofthe texture suggesting that it will rub if too impetuouslycaressed. Yes, a man would hesitate to kiss her unless he werewell shaved. At the very thought of kissing her Grant felt athrill and a glow she had never before roused in him. She had anabundance of blue-black hair, and it and her slender black browsand long lashes gave her hazel eyes a peculiar charm of mingledpassion and languor. She had a thin nose, well shaped, itsnostrils very sensitive; slightly, charmingly-puckered lips; asmall, strong chin. Certainly she had improved greatly in the twoyears since he had seen her in evening dress. "Though, perhaps, "reflected he, "I only think so because I used to see her too much, really to appreciate her. "

"Well, why didn't you?" she was saying, idly waving her fan andgazing vaguely around the room. 

"Why didn't I--what?"

"You were trying to decide why you never fell in love with me. "

"So I was, " admitted Arkwright. 

"Now if I had had lots of cash, " mocked she. 

He reddened, winced. She had hit the exact reason. Having a greatdeal of money, he wanted more--enough to make the grandest kindof splurge in a puddle where splurge was everything. "Rather, because you are too intelligent, " drawled he. "I want somebodywho'd fit into my melting moods, not a woman who'd make me ashamedby seeming to sit in judgment on my folly. "

"A man mustn't have too much respect for a woman if he's to fallutterly in love with her--must he?"

Arkwright smiled constrainedly. He liked cynical candor in men, but only pretended to like it in women because bald frankness inwomen was now the fashion. "See, " said he, "how ridiculous I'dfeel trying to say sentimental things to you. Besides, it's noteasy to fall in love with a girl one has known since she was born, and with whom he's always been on terms of brotherly, quiteunsentimental intimacy. "

Rita gave him a look that put this suggestion out of countenanceby setting him to thrilling again. He felt that her look wasartful, was deliberate, but he could not help responding to it. Hebegan to be a little afraid of her, a little nervous about her;but he managed to say indifferently, "And why haven't YOU fallenin love with ME?"

She smiled. "It isn't proper for a well-brought-up girl to loveuntil she is loved, is it?" Her expression gave Grant a faintsuggestion of a chill of apprehension lest she should be about totake advantage of their friendship by making a dead set for him. But she speedily tranquilized him by saying: "No, my reason wasthat I didn't want to spoil my one friendship. Even a businessperson craves the luxury of a friend--and marrying has been mybusiness, " this with a slight curl of her pretty, somewhat cruelmouth. "To be quite frank, I gave you up as a possibility yearsago. I saw I wasn't your style. Your tastes in women are rather--coarse. "

Arkwright flushed. "I do like 'em a bit noisy and silly, " headmitted. "That sort is so--so gemuthlich, as the Germans say. "

"Who's the man you delivered over to old Patsy Raymond? I see he'sstill fast to her. "

"Handsome, isn't he?"

"Of a sort. "

"It's Craig--the Honorable Joshua Craig--Assistant TO theAttorney-General. He's from Minnesota. He's the real thing. Butyou'd not like him. "

"He looks quite--tame, compared to what he was two years or soago, " said Rita, her voice as indolent as her slowly-moving eaglefeathers. 

"Oh, you've met him?"

"No--only saw him. When I went West with the Burkes, Gus and thehusband took me to a political meeting--one of those silly, stuffygatherings where some blatant politician bellows out a lot oflies, and a crowd of badly-dressed people listen and swallow andyelp. Your friend was one of the speakers. What he said sounded--"Rita paused for a word. 

"Sounded true, " suggested Grant. 

"Not at all. Nobody really cares anything about the people, noteven themselves. No, it sounded as if he had at least half-convinced himself, while the others showed they were lyingoutright. We rather liked him--at the safe distance of half thehall. He's the kind of man that suggests--menageries--lions--danger if the bars break. "

"How women do like that in a man!"

"Do you know him?"

"Through and through. He's a fraud, of course, like allpoliticians. But beneath the fraud there's a man--I think--agreat, big man, strong and sure of himself--which is what can't besaid of many of us who wear trousers and pose as lords ofcreation. "

The girl seemed to have ceased to listen, was apparently watchingthe dancers, Arkwright continued to gaze at his friend, to admirethe impressive, if obviously posed, effect of his handsome headand shoulders. He smiled with a tender expression, as one smilesat the weakness of those one loves. Suddenly he said: "By Jove, Rita--just the thing!"

"What?" asked the girl, resuming the languid waving of her eaglefan. 

"Marry him--marry Josh Craig. He'll not make much money out ofpolitics. I doubt if even a woman could corrupt him that far. Butyou could take him out of politics and put him in the law. Hecould roll it up there. The good lawyers sell themselves dearnowadays, and he'd make a killing. "

"This sounds interesting. "

"It's a wonder I hadn't thought of it before. "

The girl gave a curious, quiet smile. "I had, " said she. 

"YOU had!" exclaimed Arkwright. 

"A woman always keeps a careful list of eligibles, " explained she. "As Lucy Burke told me he was headed for Washington, I put him onmy list that very night--well down toward the bottom, but, still, on it. I had quite forgotten him until to-night. "

Arkwright was staring at her. Her perfect frankness, absolutenaturalness with him, unreserved trust of him, gave him a guiltyfeeling for the bitter judgment on her character which he hadsecretly formed as the result of her confidences. "Yet, really, "thought he, "she's quite the nicest girl I know, and thecleverest. If she had hid herself from me, as the rest do, I'dnever for one instant have suspected her of having so much--somuch--calm, good sense--for that's all it amounts to. " He decidedit was a mistake for any human being in any circumstances to beabsolutely natural and unconcealingly candid. "We're such shallowfakers, " reflected he, "that if any one confesses to us things nota tenth part as bad as what we privately think and do, why, we sethim--or her--especially her--down as a living, breathing atrocityin pants or petticoats. "

Margaret was of the women who seem never to think of what they arereally absorbed in, and never to look at what they are reallyscrutinizing. She disconcerted him by interrupting his reflectionswith: "Your private opinion of me is of small consequence to me, Grant, beside the relief and the joy of being able to say mysecret self aloud. Also"--here she grew dizzy at her own audacityin the frankness that fools--"Also, if I wished to get you, Grant, or any man, I'd not be silly enough to fancy my character or lackof it would affect him. That isn't what wins men--is it?"

"You and Josh Craig have a most uncomfortable way of answeringpeople's thoughts, " said Arkwright. "Now, how did you guess I wasthinking mean things about you?"

"For the same reason that Mr. Craig is able to guess what's goingon in your head. "

"And that reason is--"

She laughed mockingly. "Because I know you, Grant Arkwright--you, the meanest-generous man, and the most generous-mean man the Lordever permitted. The way to make you generous is to give you a meanimpulse; the way to make you mean is to set you to fearing you'rein danger of being generous. "

"There's a bouquet with an asp coiled in it, " said Arkwright, pleased; for with truly human vanity he had accepted thecompliment and had thrown away the criticism. "I'll go bring JoshCraig. " "No, not to-night, " said Miss Severence, with a suddencompression of the lips and a stern, almost stormy contraction ofthe brows. 

"Please don't do that, Rita, " cried Arkwright. "It reminds me ofyour grandmother. "

The girl's face cleared instantly, and all overt signs of strengthof character vanished in her usual expression of sweet, reservedfemininity. "Bring him to-morrow, " said she. "A little late, please. I want others to be there, so that I can study himunobserved. " She laughed. "This is a serious matter for me. Mytime is short, and my list of possible eligibles less extendedthan I could wish. " And with a satiric smile and a long, languorous, coquettish glance, she waved him away and waved thewaiting Jackie into his place. 

Arkwright found Craig clear of "Patsy" Raymond and against thewall near the door. He was obviously unconscious of himself, ofthe possibility that he might be observed. His eyes were pouncingfrom blaze of jewels to white neck, to laughing, sensuous face, tojewels again or to lithe, young form, scantily clad and swaying inmasculine arm in rhythm with the waltz. It gave Arkwright a qualmof something very like terror to note the contrast between hispassive figure and his roving eyes with their wolfish gleam--likeBlucher, when he looked out over London and said: "God! What acity to sack!"

Arkwright thought Josh was too absorbed to be aware of hisapproach; but as soon as he was beside him Josh said: "You wereright about that apartment of mine. It's a squalid hole. Sixmonths ago, when I got my seventy-five hundred a year, I thought Iwas rich. Rich? Why, that woman there has ten years' salary on herhair. All the money I and my whole family ever saw wouldn't payfor the rings on any one of a hundred hands here. It makes me madand it makes me greedy. "

"'I warned you, " said Arkwright. 

Craig wheeled on him. "You don't--can't--understand. You're likeall these people. Money is your god. But I don't want money, Iwant power--to make all these snobs with their wealth, thesemillionaires, these women with fine skins and beautiful bodies, bow down before me--that's what I want!"

Arkwright laughed. "Well, it's up to you, Joshua. "

Craig tossed his Viking head. "Yes, it's up to me, and I'll getwhat I want--the people and I. .. . Who's THAT frightful person?"

Into the room, only a few feet from them, advanced an old woman--very old, but straight as a projectile. She carried her head high, and her masses of gray-white hair, coiled like a crown, gave herthe seeming of royalty in full panoply. There was white lace overher black velvet at the shoulders; her train swept yards behindher. She was bearing a cane, or rather a staff, of ebony; but itsuggested, not decrepitude, but power--perhaps even a weapon thatmight be used to enforce authority should occasion demand. In herface, in her eyes, however, there was that which forbade thesupposition of any revolt being never so remotely possible. 

As she advanced across the ballroom, dancing ceased before her andaround her, and but for the noise of the orchestra there wouldhave been an awed and painful silence. Mrs. Burke's haughtydaughter-in-law, with an expression of eager desire to conciliateand to please, hastened forward and conducted the old lady to agilt armchair in the center of the dais, across the end of theballroom. It was several minutes before the gayety was resumed, and then it seemed to have lost the abandon which the freely-flowing champagne had put into it. 

"WHO is that frightful person?" repeated Craig. He was scowlinglike a king angered and insulted by the advent of an eclipsingrival. 

"Grandma, "' replied Arkwright, his flippancy carefully keyed low. 

"I've never seen a more dreadful person!" exclaimed Craig angrily. "And a woman, too! She's the exact reverse of everything a womanshould be--no sweetness, no gentleness. I can't believe she everbrought a child into the world. "

"She probably doubts it herself, " said Arkwright. 

"Why does everybody cringe before her?"

"That's what everybody asks. She hasn't any huge wealth--or birth, either, for that matter. It's just the custom. We defer to herhere precisely as we wear claw-hammer coats and low-neck dresses. Nobody thinks of changing the custom. "

Josh's lip curled. "Introduce me to her, " he said commandingly. 

Arkwright looked amused and alarmed. "Not tonight. All in goodtime. She's the grandmother of a young woman I want you to meet. She's Madam Bowker, and the girl's name is Severence. "

"I want to meet that old woman, " persisted Josh. Never before hadhe seen a human being who gave him a sense of doubt as to thesuperiority of his own will. 

"Don't be in too big a hurry for Waterloo, " jested Arkwright. "It's coming toward you fast enough. That old lady will put you inyour place. After ten minutes of her, you'll feel like a schoolboywho has 'got his' for sassing the teacher. "

"I want to meet her, " repeated Craig. And he watched her everymovement; watched the men and women bowing deferentially about herchair; watched her truly royal dignity, as she was graciouslypleased to relax now and then. 

"Every society has its mumbo-jumbo to keep it in order, " saidArkwright. "She's ours. .. . I'm dead tired. You've done enough forone night. It's a bad idea to stay too long; it creates animpression of frivolity. Come along!"

Craig went, reluctantly, with several halts and backward glancesat the old lady of the ebon staff. 

CHAPTER III

A DESPERATE YOUNG WOMAN

The house where the Severances lived, and had lived for half acentury, was built by Lucius Quintus Severence, Alabama planter, suddenly and, for the antebellum days, notably rich through acotton speculation. When he built, Washington had no distinctlyfashionable quarter; the neighborhood was then as now small, cheapwooden structures where dwelt in genteel discomfort the familiesof junior Department clerks. Lucius Quintus chose the site partlyfor the view, partly because spacious grounds could be had at anominal figure, chiefly because part of his conception ofaristocracy was to dwell in grandeur among the humble. TheSeverence place, enclosed by a high English-like wall of masonry, filled the whole huge square. On each of its four sides it put insheepish and chop-fallen countenance a row of boarding houses. Inany other city the neighborhood would have been intolerablebecause of the noise of the rowdy children. But in Washington theboarding house class cannot afford children; so, few indeed werethe small forms that paused before the big iron Severence gates togaze into the mysterious maze of green as far as might be--whichwas not far, because the walk and the branching drives turnabruptly soon after leaving the gates. 

From earliest spring until almost Christmas that mass of green wassweet with perfume and with the songs of appreciative colonies ofbright birds. In the midst of the grounds, and ingeniously shut inon all sides from any view that could spoil the illusion of aforest, stood the house, Colonial, creeper-clad, brightened in allits verandas and lawns by gay flowers, pink and whitepredominating. The rooms were large and lofty of ceiling, and nottoo uncomfortable in winter, as the family was accustomed totemperatures below the average American indoors. In spring andsummer and autumn the rooms were delightful, with their old-fashioned solid furniture, their subdued colors and tints, theirelaborate arrangements for regulating the inpour of light. Allthis suggested wealth. But the Severances were not rich. They hadabout the same amount of money that old Lucius Quintus had left;but, just as the neighborhood seemed to have degenerated when infact it had remained all but unchanged, so the Severence fortuneseemed to have declined, altogether through changes of standardelsewhere. The Severances were no poorer; simply, other people oftheir class had grown richer, enormously richer. The Severencehomestead, taken by itself and apart from its accidental settingof luxurious grounds, was a third-rate American dwelling-house, fine for a small town, but plain for a city. And the Severencefortune by contrast with the fortunes so lavishly displayed in thefashionable quarter of the capital, was a meager affair, justenough for comfort; it was far too small for the new style ofwholesale entertainment which the plutocracy has introduced fromEngland, where the lunacy for aimless and extravagant displayrages and ravages in its full horror of witless vulgarity. Thus, the Severences from being leaders twenty years before, had shrunkinto "quiet people, " were saved from downright obscurity andsocial neglect only by the indomitable will and tireless energy ofold Cornelia Bowker. 

Cornelia Bowker was not a Severence; in fact she was by birthindisputably a nobody. Her maiden name was Lard, and the Lardswere "poor white trash. " By one of those queer freaks wherewithnature loves to make mockery of the struttings of men, she wasendowed with ambition and with the intelligence and will to makeit effective. Her first ambition was education; by performinglabors and sacrifices incredible, she got herself a thorougheducation. Her next ambition was to be rich; without the beautythat appeals to the senses, she married herself to a rich NewEnglander, Henry Bowker. Her final and fiercest ambition wassocial power. She married her daughter to the only son andnamesake of Lucius Quintus Severence. The pretensions ofaristocracy would soon collapse under the feeble hands of bornaristocrats were it not for two things--the passion of the massesof mankind for looking up, and the frequent infusions intoaristocratic veins of vigorous common blood. Cornelia Bowker, bornLard, adored "birth. " In fulfilling her third ambition she hadherself born again. From the moment of the announcement of herdaughter's engagement to Lucius Severence, she ceased to be Lardor Bowker and became Severence, more of a Severence than any ofthe veritable Severences. Soon after her son-in-law and his fatherdied, she became so much THE Severence that fashionable peopleforgot her origin, regarded her as the true embodiment of thepride and rank of Severence--and Severence became, thanks whollyto her, a synonym for pride and rank, though really the Severenceswere not especially blue-blooded. 

She did not live with her widowed daughter, as two establishmentswere more impressive; also, she knew that she was not a livableperson--and thought none the worse of herself for thatcharacteristic of strong personalities. In the Severence family, at the homestead, there were, besides five servants, but threepersons--the widowed Roxana and her two daughters, Margaret andLucia--Lucia so named by Madam Bowker because with her birth endedthe Severence hopes of a son to perpetuate in the direct line thefamily Christian name for its chief heir. From the side entranceto the house extended an alley of trees, with white floweringbushes from trunk to trunk like a hedge. At one end of the alleywas a pretty, arched veranda of the house, with steps descending;at the other end, a graceful fountain in a circle, round whichextended a stone bench. Here Margaret was in the habit of walkingevery good day, and even in rainy weather, immediately afterlunch; and here, on the day after the Burke dance, at the usualtime, she was walking, as usual--up and down, up and down, a sloweven stride, her arms folded upon her chest, the muscles of hermouth moving as she chewed a wooden tooth-pick toward a pulp. Asshe walked, her eyes held steady like a soldier's, as if upon thesmall of the back of an invisible walker in front of her. Lucia, stout, rosy, lazy, sprawling upon the bench, her eyes opening andclosing drowsily, watched her sister like a sleepy, comfortablecat. The sunbeams, filtering through the leafy arch, coquettedwith Margaret's raven hair, and alternately brightened andshadowed her features. There was little of feminine softness inthose unguarded features, much of intense and apparently far fromagreeable thought. It was one of her bad days, mentally as well asphysically--probably mentally because physically. She had notslept more than two hours at most, and her eyes and skin showedit. 

"However do you stand it, Rita!" said Lucia, as Margaretapproached the fountain for the thirty-seventh time. "It's so dulland tiring, to walk that way. "

"I've got to keep my figure, " replied Margaret, dropping her handsto her slender hips, and lifting her shoulders in a movement thatdrew down her corsets and showed the fine length of her waist. 

"That's nonsense, " said Lucia. "All we Severences get stout as wegrow old. You can't hope to escape. "

"Grow old!" Margaret's brow lowered. Then she smiled satirically. "Yes, I AM growing old. I don't dare think how many seasons out, and not married, or even engaged. If we were rich, I'd be a younggirl still. As it is, I'm getting on. '"

"Don't you worry about that, Rita, " said Lucia. "Don't you letthem hurry you into anything desperate. I'm sure _I_ don't want tocome out. I hate society and I don't care about men. It's muchpleasanter lounging about the house and reading. No dressing--nofussing with clothes and people you hate. "

"It isn't fair to you, Lucy, " said Margaret. "I don't mind theirnagging, but I do mind standing in your way. And they'll keep youback as long as I'm still on the market. "

"But I want to be kept back. " Lucia spoke almost energetically, half lifting her form whose efflorescence had a certain charmbecause it was the over-luxuriance of healthy youth. "I shan'tmarry till I find the right man. I'm a fatalist. I believe there'sa man for me somewhere, and that he'll find me, though I was hid--was hid--even here. " And she gazed romantically round at theenclosing walls of foliage. 

The resolute lines, the "unfeminine" expression disappeared fromher sister's face. She laughed softly and tenderly. "What a dearyou are!" she cried. 

"You can scoff all you please, " retorted Lucia, stoutly. "Ibelieve it. We'll see if I'm not right. . .. How lovely you did looklast night! . .. You wait for your 'right man. ' Don't let themhurry you. The most dreadful things happen as the result of girls'hurrying, and then meeting him when it's too late. "

"Not to women who have the right sort of pride. " Margaret drewherself up, and once more her far-away but decided resemblance toGrandmother Bowker showed itself. "I'd never be weak enough tofall in love unless I wished. "

"That's not weakness; it's strength, " declared Lucia, out of thefulness of experience gleaned from a hundred novels or more. 

Margaret shook her head uncompromisingly. "It'd be weakness forme. " She dropped upon the bench beside her sister. "I'm going tomarry, and I'm going to superintend your future myself. I'm notgoing to let them kill all the fine feeling in you, as they'vekilled it in me. "

"Killed it!" said Lucia, reaching out for her sister's hand. "Youcan't say it's dead, so long as you cry like you did last night, when you came home from the ball. "

Margaret reddened angrily, snatched her hand away. "Shame on you!"she cried. "I thought you were above spying. "

"The door was open between your bedroom and mine, " pleaded Lucia. "I couldn't help hearing. "

"You ought to have called out--or closed it. In this family Ican't claim even my soul as my own!"

"Please, dear, " begged Lucia, sitting up now and struggling to puther arms round her sister, "you don't look on ME as an outsider, do you? Why, I'm the only one in all the world who knows you asyou are--how sweet and gentle and noble you are. All the restthink you're cold and cynical, and--"

"So I am, " said Margaret reflectively, "except toward only you. I'm grandmother over again, with what she'd call a rotten spot. "

"That rotten spot's the real you, " protested Lucia. 

Margaret broke away from her and resumed her walk. "You'll see, "said she, her face stern and bitter once more. 

A maidservant descended the steps. "Madam Bowker has come, "announced she, "and is asking for you, Miss Rita. "

A look that could come only from a devil temper flashed intoMargaret's hazel eyes. "Tell her I'm out. "

"She saw you from the window. "

Margaret debated. Said Lucia, "When she comes so soon after lunchshe's always in a frightful mood. She comes then to make a rowbecause, without her after-lunch nap, she's hardly human and canbe more--more fiendish. "

"I'll not see her, " declared Margaret. 

"Oh, yes, you will, " said Lucia. "Grandmother always has her way. "

Margaret turned to the maid. "Tell her I had just gone to my roomwith a raging headache. "

The maid departed. Margaret made a detour, entered the house bythe kitchen door and went up to her room. She wrenched off blouseand skirt, got into a dressing sacque and let down her thick blackhair. The headache was now real, so upsetting to digestion hadbeen the advent of Madam Bowker, obviously on mischief bent. "Shetransforms me into a raging devil, " thought Margaret, staring ather fiercely sullen countenance in the mirror of the dressingtable. "I wish I'd gone in to see her. I'm in just the righthumor. "

The door opened and Margaret whisked round to blast the intruderwho had dared adventure her privacy without knocking. There stoodher grandmother--ebon staff in gloved hand--erect, spare body inrustling silk--gray-white hair massed before a sort of turban--steel-blue eyes flashing, delicate nostrils dilating with thebreath of battle. 

"Ah--Margaret!" said she, and her sharp, quarrel-seeking voicetortured the girl's nerves like the point of a lancet. "They tellme you have a headache. " She lifted her lorgnon and scrutinizedthe pale, angry face of her granddaughter. "I see they weretelling me the truth. You are haggard and drawn and distressinglyyellow. "

The old lady dropped her lorgnon, seated herself. She held herstaff out at an angle, as if she were Majesty enthroned to passjudgment of life and death. "You took too much champagne at thosevulgar Burkes last night, " she proceeded. "It's a vicious thingfor a girl to do--vicious in every way. It gives her a reputation, for moral laxity which an unmarried woman can ill-afford to have--unless she has the wealth that makes men indifferent to character. . .. Why don't you answer?"

Margaret shrugged her shoulders. "You know I detest champagne andnever drink it, " said she. "And I don't purpose to begin, even tooblige you. "

"To oblige me!"

"To give you pretext for contention and nagging and quarreling. "

Madam Bowker was now in the element she had been seeking--thestormy sea of domestic wrangling. She struck out boldly, withangry joy. "I've long since learned not to expect gratitude fromyou. I can't understand my own weakness, my folly, in continuingto labor with you. "

"That's very simple, " said Margaret. "I'm the one human being youcan't compel by hook or crook to bow to your will. You regard meas unfinished business. "

Madam Bowker smiled grimly at this shrewd analysis. "I want to seeyou married and properly settled in life. I want to end thisdisgrace. I want to save you from becoming ridiculous andcontemptible--an object of laughter and of pity. "

"You want to see me married to some man I dislike and should soonhate. "

"I want to see you married, " retorted the old lady. "I can't beheld responsible for your electing to hate whatever is good foryou. And I came to tell you that my patience is about exhausted. If you are not engaged by the end of this season, I wash my handsof you. I have been spending a great deal of money in the effortto establish you. You are a miserable failure socially. You attachonly worthless men. You drive away the serious men. "

"Stupid, you mean. "

"I mean serious--the men looking for wives. Men who have somethingand have a right to aspire to the hand of MY grandchild. The onlymen who have a right to take the time of an unmarried woman. Youeither cannot, or will not, exert yourself to please. You avoidyoung girls and young men. You waste your life with people alreadysettled. You have taken on the full airs and speech of a marriedwoman, in advance of having a husband--and that is folly borderingon insanity. You have discarded everything that men--marryingmen--the right sort of men--demand in maidenhood. I repeat, youare a miserable failure. "

"A miserable failure, " echoed Margaret, staring dismally into theglass. 

"And I repeat, " continued the old lady, somewhat less harshly, though not less resolutely, "this season ends it. You must marryor I'll stop your allowance. You'll have to look to your motherfor your dresses and hats and gee-gaws. When I think of thethousands of dollars I've wasted on you--It's cheating--it'scheating! You have been stealing from me!" Madam Bowker's tone wasalmost unladylike; her ebon staff was flourishing threateningly. 

Margaret started up. "I warned you at the outset!" she cried. "Itook nothing from you that you didn't force on me. And now, whenyou've made dress, and all that, a necessity for me, you are goingto snatch it away!"

"Giving you money for dress is wasting it, " cried the old lady. "What is dress for? Pray why, do you imagine, have I provided youwith three and four dozen expensive dresses a year and hats andlingerie and everything in proportion? Just to gratify yourvanity? No, indeed! To enable you to get a husband, one able toprovide for you as befits your station. And because I have beengenerous with you, because I have spared no expense in keeping youup to your station, in giving you opportunity, you turn on me andrevile me!"

"You HAVE been generous, Grandmother, " said Margaret, humbly. There had risen up before her a hundred extravagances in which theold lady had indulged her--things quite unnecessary for show, theintimate luxuries that contribute only indirectly to show byaiding in giving the feeling and air of refinement. It was ofthese luxuries that Margaret was especially fond; and hergrandmother, with an instinct that those tastes of Margaret'sproved her indeed a lady--and made it impossible that she shouldmarry, or even think of marrying, "foolishly"--had been mostgraciously generous in gratifying them. Now, these luxuries wereto be withdrawn, these pampered tastes were to be starved. Margaret collapsed despairingly upon her table. "I wish to marry, Heaven knows! Only--only--" She raised herself; her lip quivered--"Good God, Grandmother, I CAN'T give myself to a man who repelsme! You make me hate men--marriage--everything of that kind. Sometimes I long to hide in a convent!"

"You can indulge that longing after the end of this season, " saidher grandmother. "You'll certainly hardly dare show yourself inWashington, where you have become noted for your dress. .. . That'swhat exasperates me against you! No girl appreciates refinementand luxury more than you do. No woman has better taste, could usea large income to better advantage. And you have intelligence. Youknow you must have a competent husband. Yet you fritter away youropportunities. A very short time, and you'll be a worn, faded oldmaid, and the settled people who profess to be so fond of you willbe laughing at you, and deriding you, and pitying you. "

Deriding! Pitying!

"I've no patience with the women of that clique you're so fondof, " the old lady went on. "If the ideas they profess--the shallowfrauds that they are!--were to prevail, what would become of womenof our station? Women should hold themselves dear, shouldencourage men in that old-time reverence for the sex and its rightto be sheltered and worshiped and showered with luxury. As foryou--a poor girl--countenancing such low and ruinous views--Is itstrange I am disgusted with you? Have you no pride--no self-respect?"

Margaret sat motionless, gazing into vacancy. She could not butendorse every word her grandmother was saying. She had heardpractically those same words often, but they had had no effect;now, toward the end of this her least successful season, with mostof her acquaintances married off, and enjoying and flaunting theluxury she might have had--for, they had married men, of "theright sort"--"capable husbands"--men who had been more or lessattentive to her--now, these grim and terrible axioms of worldlywisdom, of upper class honor, from her grandmother sounded in herears like the boom of surf on reefs in the ears of the sailor. 

A long miserable silence; then, her grandmother: "What do youpurpose to do, Margaret?"

"To hustle, " said the girl with a short, bitter laugh. "I mustrope in somebody. Oh, I've been realizing, these past two months. I'm awake at last. "

Madam Bowker studied the girl's face, gave a sigh of relief. "Ifeel greatly eased, " said she. "I see you are coming to yoursenses before it's too late. I knew you would. You have inheritedtoo much of my nature, of my brain and my character. "

Margaret faced the old woman in sudden anger. "If you had madeallowances for that, if you had reasoned with me quietly, insteadof nagging and bullying and trying to compel, all this might havebeen settled long ago. " She shrugged her shoulders. "But that'spast and done. I'm going to do my best. Only--I warn you, don'ttry to drive me! I'll not be driven!"

"What do you think of Grant Arkwright?" asked her grandmother. 

"I intend to marry him, " replied Margaret. 

The old lady's stern eyes gleamed delight. 

"But, " Margaret hastened to add, "you mustn't interfere. Hedoesn't like you. He's afraid of you. If you give the slightestsign, he'll sheer off. You must let me handle him. "

"The insolent puppy, " muttered Madam Bowker. "I've always detestedhim. "

"You don't want me to marry him?"

"On the contrary, " the old lady replied. "He would make the bestpossible husband for you. " She smiled like a grand inquisitor atprospect of a pleasant day with rack and screw. "He needs a firmhand, " said she. 

Margaret burst out laughing at this implied compliment to herself;then she colored as with shame and turned away. "What frauds wewomen are!" she exclaimed. "If I had any sense of decency left, I'd be ashamed to do it!"

"There you go again!" cried her grandmother. "You can't bepractical five minutes in succession. Why should a woman beashamed to do a man a service in spite of himself? Men are foolswhere women are concerned. I never knew one that was not. And themore sensible they are in other respects, the bigger fools theyare about us! Left to themselves, they always make a mess ofmarriage. They think they know what they want, but they don't. Wehave to teach them. A man needs a firm hand during courtship, anda firmer hand after marriage. So many wives forget their duty andrelax. If you don't take hold of that young Arkwright, he'll nodoubt fall a victim to some unscrupulous hussy. "

Unscrupulous hussy! Margaret looked at herself in the mirror, mether own eyes with a cynical laugh. "Well, I'm no worse than theothers, " she added, half to herself. Presently she said, "Grant iscoming this afternoon. I look a fright. I must take a headachepowder and get some sleep. " Her grandmother rose instantly. "Yes, you do look badly--for you. And Arkwright has very keen eyes--thanks to those silly women of your set who teach men things theyhave no business to know. " She advanced and kissed hergranddaughter graciously on top of the head. "I am glad to see myconfidence in you was not misplaced, Margaret, " said she. "I couldnot believe I was so utterly mistaken in judgment of character. I'll go to your mother and take her for a drive. "

CHAPTER IV. 

"HE ISN'T LIKE US"

Margaret continued to sit there, her elbows on the dressing-table, her knuckles pressing into her cheeks, the hazel eyes gazing attheir reflection in the mirror. "What is it in me, " she said toher image, "that makes me less successful at drawing men to thepoint than so many girls who are no better looking than I?" Andshe made an inventory of her charms that was creditably free fromvanity. "And men certainly like to talk to me, " she pursued. "Thefish bite, but the hook doesn't hold. Perhaps--probably--I'm notsentimental enough. I don't simper and pretend innocence and talktommy rot--and listen to it as if I were eating honey. "

This explanation was not altogether satisfactory, however. Shefelt that, if she had a certain physical something, which she mustlack, nothing else would matter--nothing she said or did. It wasbaffling; for, there, before her eyes were precisely the charms offeature and figure that in other women, in far less degree, hadset men, many men, quite beside themselves. Her lip curled, andher eyes laughed satirically as she thought of the follies ofthose men--how they had let women lead them up and down in publicplaces, drooling and sighing and seeming to enjoy their ownpitiful plight. If that expression of satire had not disappearedso quickly, she might have got at the secret of her "miserablefailure. " For, it was her habit of facing men with only lightlyveiled amusement, or often frank ridicule, in her eyes, in thecurve of her lips, that frightened them off, that gave them theuneasy sense that their assumptions of superiority to the femalewere being judged and derided. 

But time was flying. It was after three; the headache was stillpounding in her temples, and her eyes did look almost as haggardand her skin almost as sallow as her grandmother had said. Shetook an anti-pyrene powder from a box in her dressing-table, threwoff all her clothes, swathed herself in a long robe of pale-bluesilk. She locked the door into the hall, and went into herbedroom, closed the door between. She put the powder in water, drank it, dropped down upon a lounge at the foot of her bed andcovered herself. The satin pillow against her cheek, the coolnessand softness of the silk all along and around her body, weredeliciously soothing. Her blood beat less fiercely, and somberthoughts drew slowly away into a vague cloud at the horizon of hermind. Lying there, with senses soothed by luxury and deadened topain by the drug, she felt so safe, so shut-in against allintrusion. In a few hours the struggle, the bitterness would beginagain; but at least here was this interval of repose, of freedom. Only when she was thus alone did she ever get that most voluptuousof all sensations--freedom. Freedom and luxury! "I'm afraid Ican't eat my cake and have it, too, " she mused drowsily. "Well--whether or not I can have freedom, at least I MUST have luxury. I'm afraid Grant can't give me nearly all I want--who could? . .. If I had the courage--Craig could make more than Grant has, if hewere put to it. I'm sure he could. I'm sure he could do almostanything--but be attractive to a woman. No, Craig is too strong adose--besides, there's the risk. Grant is safest. Better a smallloaf than--than no Paris dresses. "

Arkwright, entering Mrs. Severence's drawing-room with Craig athalf-past five, found a dozen people there. Most of them were ofthat young married set which Margaret preferred, to the anger anddisgust of her grandmother and against the entreaties of her owncommon sense. "The last place in the world to look for a husband, "Madam Bowker had said again and again, to both her daughter andher granddaughter. "Their talk is all in ridicule of marriage, andof every sacred thing. And if there are any bachelors, they havecome--well, certainly not in search of honorable wedlock. "

The room was noisily gay; but Margaret, at the tea-table in arather somber brown dress with a big brown hat, whose great plumesshadowed her pale, somewhat haggard face, was evidently not in oneof her sparkling moods. The headache powder and the nap had notbeen successful. She greeted Arkwright with a slight, absentsmile, seemed hardly to note Craig, as Arkwright presented him. 

"Sit down here beside Miss Severence, " Grant said. 

"Yes, do, " acquiesced Margaret; and Joshua thought her cold andhaughty, an aristocrat of the unapproachable type, never naturaland never permitting others to be natural. 

"And tell her all about yourself, " continued Grant. 

"My friend Josh, here, " he explained to Margaret, "is one of thoseserious, absorbed men who concentrate entirely upon themselves. Itisn't egotism; it's genius. "

Craig was ruffled and showed it. He did not like persiflage; itseemed an assault upon dignity, and in those early days inWashington he was full of dignity and of determination to create adignified impression. He reared haughtily and looked about witharrogant, disdainful eyes. 

"Will you have tea?" said Miss Severence, as Arkwright moved away. 

"No, thanks, " replied Craig. "Tea's for the women and thechildren. "

Miss Severence's expression made him still more uncomfortable. "Well, " said she, "if you should feel dry as you tell me aboutyourself, there's whiskey over on that other table. A cigarette?No? I'm afraid I can't ask you to have a cigar--"

"And take off my coat, and put my feet up, and be at home!" saidCraig. "I see you think I'm a boor. "

"Don't you want people to think you a boor?" inquired she withironic seriousness. 

He looked at her sharply. "You're laughing at me, " he said, calmly. "Now, wouldn't it be more ladylike for you to try to putme at my ease? I'm in your house, you know. "

Miss Severence flushed. "I beg your pardon, " she said. "I did notmean to offend. "

"No, " replied Craig. "You simply meant to amuse yourself with me. And because I don't know what to do with my hands and because mycoat fits badly, you thought I wouldn't realize what you weredoing. You are very narrow--you fashionable people. You don't evenknow that everybody ought to be judged on his own ground. To sizeup a race-horse, you don't take him into a drawing room. And itwouldn't be quite fair, would it, for me to judge these drawing-room dolls by what they could do out among real men and women?You--for instance. How would you show up, if you had to face lifewith no husband and no money and five small children, as my motherdid? Well, SHE won out. "

Miss Severence was not attracted; but she was interested. She sawbeyond the ill-fitting frock-coat, and the absurd manner, thoroughly ill at ease, trying to assume easy, nonchalant man-of-the-world airs. "I'd never have thought of judging you except onyour own ground, " said she, "if you hadn't invited thecomparison. "

"You mean, by getting myself up in these clothes and coming here?"

"Yes. "

"You're right, young lady, " said Craig, clapping her on the arm, and waving an energetic forefinger almost in her face. "And assoon as I can decently get away, I'll go. I told Arkwright I hadno business to come here. "

Miss Severance colored, drew her arm away, froze. She detested allforms of familiarity; physical familiarity she abhorred. "You haveknown Grant Arkwright long?" she said, icily. 

"NOW, what have I done?" demanded Joshua. 

She eyed him with a lady's insolent tranquillity. "Nothing, "replied she. "We are all so glad Grant has come back. "

Craig bit his lip and his tawny, weather-beaten skin reddened. Hestared with angry envy at Arkwright, so evidently at ease and athome in the midst of a group on the other side of the room. Incompany, practically all human beings are acutely self-conscious. But self-consciousness is of two kinds. Arkwright, assured thathis manners were correct and engaging, that his dress was all itshould be, or could be, that his position was secure and admired, had the self-consciousness of self-complacence. Joshua'sconsciousness of himself was the extreme of the other kind--like arat's in a trap. 

"You met Mr. Arkwright out West--out where you live?"

"Yes, " said Craig curtly, almost surlily. 

"I was out there once, " pursued the young woman, feeling that inher own house she must do her best with the unfortunate young man. "And, curiously enough, I heard you speak. We all admired you verymuch. "

Craig cheered up instantly; he was on his own ground now. "Howlong ago?" he asked. 

"Three years; two years last September. "

"Oh, I was a mere boy then. You ought to hear me now. "

And Joshua launched forth into a description of his oratory, thenrelated how he had won over juries in several important cases. Hisarms, his hands were going, his eyes were glistening, his voicehad that rich, sympathetic tone which characterizes the egotistwhen the subject is himself. Miss Severence listened withoutcomment; indeed, he was not sure that she was listening, soconventional was her expression. But, though she was careful tokeep her face a blank, her mind was busy. Surely not since the gaywomen of Barras's court laughed at the megalomaniac ravings of anoisy, badly dressed, dirty young lieutenant named Buonaparte, hadthere been a vanity so candid, so voluble, so obstreperous. Nordid he talk of himself in a detached way, as if he were relatingthe performances and predicting the glory of a human being whohappened to have the same name as himself. No, he thrust upon herin every sentence that he, he himself and none other, had said anddone all these splendid startling things, would do more, and moresplendid. She listened, astounded; she wondered why she did notburst out laughing in his very face, why, on the contrary, sheseemed to accept to a surprising extent his own estimate ofhimself. 

"He's a fool, " thought she, "one of the most tedious fools I evermet. But I was right; he's evidently very much of a somebody. However does he get time to DO anything, when he's so busyadmiring himself? How does he ever contrive to take his mind offhimself long enough to think of anything else?"

Nearly an hour later Arkwright came for him, cut him off in themiddle of an enthusiastic description of how he had enchained andenthralled a vast audience in the biggest hall in St. Paul. "Wemust go, this instant, " said Arkwright. "I had no idea it was solate. "

"I'll see you soon again, no doubt, Mr. Craig, " said MissSeverence, polite but not cordial, as she extended her hand. 

"Yes, " replied Craig, holding the hand, and rudely not looking ather but at Arkwright. "You've interrupted us in a very interestingtalk, Grant. "

Grant and Margaret exchanged smiles, Margaret disengaged her hand, and the two men went. As they were strolling down the drive, Grantsaid: "Well, what did you think of her?"

"A nobody--a nothing, " was Craig's wholly unexpected response. "Homely--at least insignificant. Bad color. Dull eyes. Badmanners. A poor specimen, even of this poor fashionable society ofyours. An empty-head. "

"Well--well--WELL!" exclaimed Arkwright in derision. "Yet you andshe seemed to be getting on beautifully together. "

"I did all the talking. "

"You always do. "

"But it was the way she listened. I felt as if I were rehearsingin a vacant room. "

"Humph, " grunted Arkwright. 

He changed the subject. The situation was one that requiredthought, plan. "She's just the girl for Josh, " said he to himself. "And he must take her. Of course, he's not the man for her. Shecouldn't care for him, not in a thousand years. What woman with asense of humor could? But she's got to marry somebody that cangive her what she must have. . .. It's very important whom a manmarries, but it's not at all important whom a woman marries. Theworld wasn't made for them, but for US!"

At Vanderman's that night he took Mrs. Tate in to dinner, butMargaret was on his left. "When does your Craig make his speechbefore the Supreme Court?" asked she. 

He inspected her with some surprise. "Tuesday, I think. Why?"

"I promised him I'd go. "

"And will you?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

This would never do. Josh would get the impression she was runningafter him, and would be more contemptuous than ever. "I shouldn't, if I were you. "

"Why not?"

"Well, he's very vain, as you perhaps discovered. He mightmisunderstand. "

"And why should that disturb me?" asked she, tranquilly. "I do asI please. I don't concern myself about what others think. Yourfriend interests me. I've a curiosity to see whether he hasimproved in the last two or three years as much as he says hehas. "

"He told you all about himself?"

"Everything--and nothing. "

"That's just it!" exclaimed Arkwright, misunderstanding her. "After he has talked me into a state of collapse, every word abouthimself and his career, I think it all over, and wonder whetherthere's anything to the man or not. Sometimes I think there's areal person beneath that flow of vanity. Then, again, I thinknot. "

"Whether he's an accident or a plan, " mused the young woman; butshe saw that Arkwright did not appreciate the cleverness and thepenetration of her remark. Indeed, she knew in advance that hewould not, for she knew his limitations. "Now, " thought she, "Craig would have appreciated it--and clapped me on the arm--orknee. "

"Did you like Josh?" Grant was inquiring. 

"Very much, indeed. "

"Of course, " said Arkwright satirically. 

"He has ability to do things. He has strength. . .. He isn't likeus. "

Arkwright winced. "I'm afraid you exaggerate him, merely becausehe's different. "

"He makes me feel an added contempt for myself, somehow. Doesn'the you?"

"I can't say he does, " replied Arkwright, irritated. "I appreciatehis good qualities, but I can't help being offended and disturbedfor him by his crudities. He has an idea that to be polite andwell-dressed is to be weak and worthless. And I can't get it outof his head. "

Margaret's smile irritated him still further. "All great men aremore or less rude and crude, aren't they?" said she. "They areimpatient of the trifles we lay so much stress on. "

"So, you think Josh is a great man?"

"I don't know, " replied Margaret, with exasperatingdeliberateness. "I want to find out. "

"And if you decide that he is, you'll marry him?"

"Perhaps. You suggested it the other day. "

"In jest, " said Arkwright, unaccountably angry with her, withhimself, with Joshua. "As soon as I saw him in your presence, Iknew it wouldn't do. It'd be giving a piece of rare, delicateporcelain to a grizzly as a plaything. "

He was surprised at himself. Now that he was face to face with apossibility of her adopting his own proposition, he disliked itintensely. He looked at her; never had she seemed so alluring, sorepresentative of what he called distinction. At the very idea ofsuch refinement at the mercy of the coarse and boisterous Craig, his blood boiled. "Josh is a fine, splendid chap, as a man amongmen, " said he to himself. " But to marry this dainty aristocrat tohim--it'd be a damned disgraceful outrage. He's not fit to marryamong OUR women. .. . What a pity such a stunning girl shouldn'thave the accessories to make her eligible. " And he hastily turnedhis longing eyes away, lest she should see and attach too muchimportance to a mere longing--for, he felt it would be a pitifulweakness, a betrayal of opportunity, for him to marry, in a moodof passion that passes, a woman who was merely well born, when hehad the right to demand both birth and wealth in his wife. 

"I've often thought, " pursued Margaret, "that to be loved by a manof the Craig sort would be--interesting. "

"While being loved by one of your own sort would be dull?"suggested Arkwright with a strained smile. 

Margaret shrugged her bare white shoulders in an inflammatoryassent. "Will you go with me to the Supreme Court on Tuesday?"

"Delighted, " said Arkwright. And he did not realize that the deep-hidden source of his enthusiasm was a belief that Josh Craig wouldmake an ass of himself. 

CHAPTER V

ALMOST HOOKED

In human affairs, great and small, there are always many reasonsfor every action; then, snugly tucked away underneath all thesereasons that might be and ought to be and pretend to be butaren't, hides the real reason, the real moving cause of action. Bytacit agreement among human beings there is an unwritten lawagainst the exposing of this real reason, whose naked and uglyface would put in sorry countenance professions of patriotism orphilanthropy or altruism or virtue of whatever kind. Stillwater, the Attorney-General and Craig's chief, had a dozen reasons forletting him appear alone for the Administration--that is, for thepeople--in that important case. Each of these reasons--except one--shed a pure, white light upon Stillwater's public spirit andprivate generosity. That one was the reason supposed by Mrs. Stillwater to be real. "Since you don't seem able to get rid ofJosh Craig, Pa, " said she, in the seclusion of the marital couch, "we might as well marry him to Jessie"--Jessie being theirhomeliest daughter. 

"Very well, " said "Pa" Stillwater. "I'll give him a chance. "

Still, we have not got the real reason for Josh's getting whatStillwater had publicly called "the opportunity of a lifetime. "The really real reason was that Stillwater wished, and calculated, to kill a whole flock of birds with one stone. 

Whenever the people begin to clamor for justice upon theirexploiters, the politicians, who make themselves valuable to theexploiters by cozening the people into giving them office, beginby denying that the people want anything; when the clamor grows soloud that this pretense is no longer tenable, they hasten to say, "The people are right, and something must be done. Unfortunately, there is no way of legally doing anything at present, and we mustbe patient until a way is discovered. " Way after way is suggested, only to be dismissed as "dangerous" or "impractical" or"unconstitutional. " The years pass; the clamor persists, becomesimperious. The politicians pass a law that has been carefully madeunconstitutional. This gives the exploiters several years more oflicense. Finally, public sentiment compels the right kind of law;it is passed. Then come the obstacles to enforcement. More yearsof delay; louder clamor. A Stillwater is put in charge of theenforcement of the law; a case is made, a trial is had, and theevidence is so incomplete or the people's lawyers so poorlymatched against the lawyers of the exploiters that the case fails, and the administration is able to say, "You see, WE'VE done ourbest, but the rascals have escaped!" The case against certainWestern railway thieves had reached the stage at which the onlyway the exploiters could be protected from justice was by having amock trial; and Stillwater had put Craig forward as the conductorof this furious sham battle, had armed him with a poor gun, loadedwith blanks. "We'll lose the case, " calculated Stillwater; "we'llsave our friends, and get rid of Craig, whom everybody will blame--the damned, bumptious, sophomoric blow-hard!"

What excuse did Stillwater make to himself for himself in thiscourse of seeming treachery and assassination? For, being a man ofthe highest principles, he would not deliberately plan anassassination as an assassination. Why, his excuse was that thepopular clamor against the men "who had built up the Westerncountry" was wicked, that he was serving his country in denyingthe mob "the blood of our best citizens, " that Josh Craig was ademagogue who richly deserved to be hoist by his own petar. Helaughed with patriotic glee as he thought how "Josh, the joke"would make a fool of himself with silly, sophomoric arguments, would with his rude tactlessness get upon the nerves of thefinicky old Justices of the Supreme Court!

As Craig had boasted right and left of the "tear" he was going tomake, and had urged everybody he talked with to come and hear him, the small courtroom was uncomfortably full, and not a few of thesmiling, whispering spectators confidently expected that they wereabout to enjoy that rare, delicious treat--a conceited braggartpublicly exposed and overwhelmed by himself. Among thesespectators was Josh's best friend, Arkwright, seated besideMargaret Severence, and masking his satisfaction over theimpending catastrophe with an expression of funereal somberness. He could not quite conceal from himself all these hopes that hadsuch an uncomfortable aspect of ungenerousness. So he reasonedwith himself that they really sprang from a sincere desire for hisfriend's ultimate good. "Josh needs to have his comb cut, " thoughthe. "It's sure to be done, and he can bear it better now thanlater. The lesson will teach him a few things he must learn. Ionly hope he'll be able to profit by it. "

When Josh appeared, Grant and the others with firmly-fixedopinions of the character of the impending entertainment were nota little disquieted. Joshua Craig, who stepped into the arena, looked absolutely different from the Josh they knew. How had hedivested himself of that familiar swaggering, bustlingbraggadocio? Where had he got this look of the strong man about torun a race, this handsome face on which sat real dignity and realpower? Never was there a better court manner; the Justices, whohad been anticipating an opportunity to demonstrate, at hisexpense, the exceeding dignity of the Supreme Court, could onlyadmire and approve. As for his speech, it was a straightwayargument; not a superfluous or a sophomoric word, not an attemptat rhetoric. His argument--There is the logic that is potent butanswerable; there is the logic that is unanswerable, that gives noopportunity to any sane mind, however prejudiced by associationwith dispensers of luxurious hospitality, of vintage wines anddollar cigars, however enamored of fog-fighting and hair-splitting, to refuse the unqualified assent of convictionabsolute. That was the kind of argument Josh Craig made. And thefaces of the opposing lawyers, the questions the Justices askedhim plainly showed that he had won. 

After the first ten minutes, when the idea that Craig could be orever had been laughable became itself absurd, Arkwright glanceduneasily, jealously at Margaret. The face beneath the brim of herbeautiful white and pale pink hat was cold, conventional, was theface of a mere listener. Grant, reassured, resumed his absorbedattention, was soon completely swept away by his friend'sexhibition of power, could hardly wait until he and Margaret wereout of the courtroom before exploding in enthusiasm. "Isn't he awonder?" he cried. "Why, I shouldn't have believed it possible fora man of his age to make such a speech. He's a great lawyer aswell as a great orator. It was a dull subject, yet I wasfascinated. Weren't you?"

"It was interesting--at times, " said Margaret. 

"At times! Oh, you women!"

At this scorn Margaret eyed his elegant attire, his face with itsexpression of an intelligence concentrated upon the petty and thepaltry. Her eyes suggested a secret amusement so genuine that shecould not venture to reveal it in a gibe. She merely said: "Iconfess I was more interested in him than in what he said. "

"Of course! Of course!" said Grant, all unconscious of herderision. "Women have no interest in serious things and no mindfor logic. "

She decided that it not only was prudent but also was moreenjoyable to keep to herself her amusement at his airs ofmasculine superiority. Said she, her manner ingenuous: "It doesn'tstrike me as astonishing that a man should make a sensiblespeech. "

Grant laughed as if she had said something much cleverer than shecould possibly realize. "That's a fact, " admitted he. "It wassimply supreme common-sense. What a world for twaddle it is whencommon-sense makes us sit up and stare. .. . But it's none the lesstrue that you're prejudiced against him. "

"Why do you say that?"

"If you appreciated him you'd be as enthusiastic as I. " There wasin his tone a faint hint of his unconscious satisfaction in herfailure to appreciate Craig. 

"You can go very far astray, " said she, "you, with your masculinelogic. "

But Grant had guessed aright. Margaret had not listenedattentively to the speech because it interested her less than theman himself. She had concentrated wholly upon him. Thus, alone ofall the audience, she had seen that Craig was playing a carefully-rehearsed part, and, himself quite unmoved, was watching andprofiting by every hint in the countenance of his audience, theold Justices. It was an admirable piece of acting; it was theperformance of a genius at the mummer's art. But the power of themummer lies in the illusion he creates; if he does not createillusion, as Craig did not for Margaret, he becomes merepantomimist and mouther. She had never given a moment's thought topublic life as a career; she made no allowances for the fact thata man's public appearances, no matter how sincere he is, mustalways be carefully rehearsed if he is to use his powers withunerring effect; she was simply like a child for the first time atthe theater, and, chancing to get a glimpse behind the scenes, disgusted and angry with the players because their performance isnot spontaneous. If she had stopped to reason about the matter shewould have been less uncompromising. But in the shock ofdisillusionment she felt only that the man was working upon hisaudience like a sleight-of-hand performer; and the longer sheobserved, and the stronger his spell over the others, the deeperbecame her contempt for the "charlatan. " He seemed to her like onetelling a lie--as that one seems, while telling it, to the hearerwho is not deceived. "I've been thinking him rough but genuine, "said she to herself. "He's merely rough. " She had forgiven, haddisregarded his rude almost coarse manners, setting them down toindifference, the impatience of the large with the little, arevolt from the (on the whole preferable) extreme opposite of themincing, patterned manners of which Margaret herself was a-weary. "But he isn't indifferent at all, " she now felt. "He's simplyposing. His rudenesses are deliberate where they are not sheerignorance. His manner in court showed that he knows how, in themain. "

A rather superior specimen of the professional politician, butdistinctly of that hypocritical, slippery class. And Margaret'sconviction was strengthened later in the day when she came uponhim at tea at Mrs. Houghton's. He was holding forth noisilyagainst "society, " was denouncing it as a debaucher of manhood andwomanhood, a waster of precious time, and on and on in that triteand tedious strain. Margaret's lip curled as she listened. Whatdid this fakir know about manhood and womanhood? And could therebe any more pitiful, more paltry wasting of time than in studyingout and performing such insincerities as his life was made up of?True, Mrs. Houghton, of those funny, fashionable New Yorkers whoact as if they had only just arrived at the estate of servants andcarriages, and are always trying to impress even passing strangerswith their money and their grandeur--true, Mrs. Houghton was mostprovocative to anger or amused disdain at the fashionable life. But not even Mrs. Houghton seemed to Margaret so cheap and pitifulas this badly-dressed, mussy politician, as much an actor as Mrs. Houghton and as poor at the trade, but choosing low comedy for hisunworthy attempts where Mrs. Houghton was at least trying to besomething refined. 

With that instinct for hostility which is part of the equipment ofevery sensitively-nerved man of action, Craig soon turned towardher, addressed himself to her; and the others, glad to be free, fell away. Margaret was looking her best. White was extremelybecoming to her; pink--pale pink--being next in order. Her dresswas of white, with facings of delicate pale pink, and the whiteplumes in her hat were based in pale pink, which also lined theinside of the brim. She watched him, and, now that it was oncemore his personality pitted directly and wholly against hers, she, in spite of herself, began to yield to him again her respect--therespect every intelligent person must feel for an individualitythat is erect and strong. But as she was watching, her expressionwas that of simply listening, without comment or intention toreply--an expression of which she was perfect mistress. Her hazeleyes, set in dark lashes, her sensuous mouth, her pallid skin, smooth and healthy, seemed the climax of allurement to which allthe lines of her delightful figure pointed. To another woman itwould have been obvious that she was amusing herself by trying todraw him under the spell of physical attraction; a man would havethought her a mere passive listener, perhaps one concealingboredom, would have thought her movements to bring now this charmand now that to his attention were simply movements ofrestlessness, indications of an impatience difficult to control. He broke off abruptly. "What are you thinking?" he demanded. 

She gave no sign of triumph at having accomplished her purpose--athaving forced his thoughts to leave his pet subject, himself, andcenter upon her. "I was thinking, " said she reflectively, "what abrave whistler you are. "

"Whistler?"

"Whistling to keep up your courage. No, rather, whistling FORcourage. You are on your knees before wealth and social position, and you wish to convince yourself--and the world--that you despisethem. "

"_I_? Wealth? Social position?" Craig exclaimed, or rather, blustered. And, red and confused, he was at a loss for words. 

"Yes--you, " asserted she, in her quiet, tranquil way. "Don'tbluster at me. You didn't bluster at the Court this morning. " Shelaughed softly, eyeing him with friendly sarcasm. "You see, I'm'on to' you, Mr. Craig. "

Their eyes met--a resolute encounter. He frowned fiercely, and ashis eyes were keen and blue-green, and, backed by a tremendouswill, the odds seemed in his favor. But soon his frown relaxed; asmile replaced it--a handsome acknowledgment of defeat, ahumorous confession that she was indeed "on to" him. "I like you, "he said graciously. 

"I don't know that I can say the same of you, " replied she, noanswering smile in her eyes or upon her lips, but a seriousnessfar more flattering. 

"That's right!" exclaimed he. "Frankness--absolute frankness. Youare the only intelligent woman I have met here who seems to haveany sweetness left in her. "

"Sweetness? This is a strange place to look for sweetness. Onemight as well expect to find it in a crowd of boys scrapping forpennies, or in a pack of hounds chasing a fox. "

"But that isn't all of life, " protested Craig. 

"It's all of life among our sort of people--the ambitious sociallyand otherwise. "

Josh beamed upon her admiringly. "You'll do, " approved he. "Weshall be friends. We ARE friends. "

The gently satiric smile her face had borne as she was talkingbecame personal to him. "You are confident, " said she. 

He nodded emphatically. "I am. I always get what I want. "

"I'm sorry to say I don't. But I can say that at least I nevertake what I don't want. "

"That means, " said he, "you may not want my friendship. "

"Obviously, " replied she. And she rose and put out her hand. 

"Don't go yet, " cried he. "We are just beginning to getacquainted. The other day I misjudged you. I thought youinsignificant, not worth while. "

She slid her hand into her ermine muff. She gave him an icy look, not contemptuous but oblivious, and turned away. He stared afterher. "By Jove!" thought he, "THERE'S the real thing. There's atrue aristocrat. " And he frankly paid aristocracy in thought thetribute he would with any amount of fuming and spluttering havedenied it in word. "Aristocracy does mean something, " reflectedhe. "There must be substance to what can make ME feel quite putdown. "

When he saw Arkwright he said patronizingly: "I like that littlefriend of yours--that Miss What's-her-name. "

Grant suspected from his tone that this forgetfulness was anaffectation. "You know very well what her name is, " said heirritably. "What a cheap affectation. "

Josh countered and returned magnificently: "I remember her faceperfectly, " said he. "One shares one's name with a great manypeople, so it's unimportant. But one's face is one's own. Iremember her face very well indeed--and that gorgeous figure ofhers. "

Grant was furious, thought Craig's words the limit of impertinentfree-spokenness. "Well, what of it?" said he savagely. 

"I like her, " replied Josh condescendingly. "But she's been badlybrought up, and is full of foolish ideas, like all your womenhere. But she's a thoroughbred. "

"Then you like her?" observed Arkwright without enthusiasm. 

"So-so. Of course, she isn't fit to be a wife, but for her typeand as a type she's splendid. "

Arkwright felt like kicking him and showed it. "What a bounder youare at times, Josh, " he snapped. 

Craig laughed and slapped him on the back. "There you go again, with your absurd notions of delicacy. Believe me, Grant, you don'tunderstand women. They don't like you delicate fellows. They likea man--like me--a pawer of the ground--a snorter--a warhorse thatcries ha-ha among the trumpets. "

"The worst thing about what you say, " replied Arkwright sourly, "is that it's the truth. I don't say the women aren't worthy ofus, but I do say they're not worthy of our opinion of them. .. . Well, I suppose you're going to try to marry her"--this with avicious gleam which he felt safe in indulging openly before one soself-absorbed and so insensible to subtleties of feeling andmanner. 

"I think not, " said Craig judicially. "She'd play hell with mypolitics. It's bad enough to have fights on every hand and all thetime abroad. It'd be intolerable to have one at home--and I've gotno time to train her to my uses and purposes. "

Usually Craig's placid conviction that the universe existed forhis special benefit and that anything therein was his for the mereformality of claiming it moved Arkwright to tolerant amusement athis lack of the sense of proportion and humor. Occasionally itmoved him to reluctant admiration--this when some apparentlyabsurd claim of his proved more or less valid. Just now, in thematter of Margaret Severence, this universal overlordship filledhim with rage, the more furious that he realized he could no moreshake Josh's conviction than he could make the Washington monumenttopple over into the Potomac by saying, "Be thou removed. " Hemight explain all the obvious reasons why Margaret would neverdeign to condescend to him; Josh would dismiss them with a laughat Arkwright's folly. 

He hid his rage as best he could, and said with some semblance ofgenial sarcasm: "So all you've got to do is to ask her and she'syours?"

Craig gave him a long, sharp, searching look. "Old man, " he saidearnestly, "do you want her?"

"_I_!" exclaimed Arkwright angrily, but with shifting eyes andwith upper lip twitching guiltily. Then, satirically: "Oh, no; I'dnot dare aspire to any woman YOU had condescended to smile upon. "

"If you do I'll get her for you, " pursued Craig, his hand seekingArkwright's arm to grip it. 

Arkwright drew away, laughed outright. "You ARE a joke!" he cried, wholly cured of his temper by the preposterous offer. It would beabsurd enough for any one to imagine he would need help incourting any woman he might fancy--he, one of the most eligible ofAmerican bachelors. It passed the uttermost bounds of the absurd, this notion that he would need help with a comparatively poorgirl, many seasons out and eager to marry. And then, climax ofclimaxes, that Josh Craig could help him! "Yes, a joke, " herepeated. 

"Oh, no doubt I do seem so to you, " replied Josh unruffled. "People are either awed or amused by what they're incapable ofunderstanding. At this stage of my career I'm not surprised tofind they're amused. But wait, my boy. Meanwhile, if you want thatlady, all you've got to do is to say the word. I'll get her foryou. "

"Thanks; no, " said Arkwright. "I'm rather shy of matrimony. Idon't hanker after the stupid joys of family life, as you do. "

"That's because of your ruinous, rotten training, " Craig assuredhim. "It has destroyed your power to appreciate the greatfundamentals of life. You think you're superior. If you only knewhow shallow you are!"

"I've a competent valet, " said Arkwright. "And your idea of a wifeseems to be a sort of sublimated valet--and nurse. "

"I can conceive of no greater dignity than to take care of a realman and his children, " replied Craig. "However, the dignity of theservice depends upon the dignity of the person to whom it isrendered--and upon the dignity of the person who renders it. "

Arkwright examined Craig's face for signs that this was the bitingsarcasm it would have seemed, coming from another. But Craig wasapparently merely making one of his familiar bumptious speeches. The idea of a man of his humble origin proclaiming himselfsuperior to an Arkwright of the Massachusetts Arkwrights!

"No, I'd not marry your Miss Severence, " Craig continued. "I wanta wife, not a social ornament. I want a woman, not a toilette. Iwant a home, not a fashionable hotel. I want love and sympathy andchildren. I want substance, not shadow; sanity, not silliness. "

"And your socks darned and your shirts mended. "

"That, of course. " Josh accepted these amendments with sereneseriousness. "And Miss Severence isn't fit for the job. She hassome brains--the woman kind of brains. She has a great deal ofrudimentary character. If I had the time, and it were worth while, I could develop her into a real woman. But I haven't, and itwouldn't be worth while when there are so many real women, readymade, out where I come from. This girl would be exactly the wifefor you, though. Just as she is, she'd help you mince about fromparlor to parlor, and smirk and jabber and waste time. She's beeneducating for the job ever since she was born. " He laid his handin gracious, kindly fashion on his friend's shoulder. "Think itover. And if you want my help it's yours. I can show her what afine fellow you are, what a good husband you'd make. For you are afine person, old man; when you were born fashionable and rich itspoiled a--"

"A superb pram-trundler, " suggested Arkwright. 

"Precisely. Be off now; I must work. Be off, and exhibit thatwonderful suit and those spotless white spats where they'll beappreciated. " And he dismissed the elegantly-dressed idler as aking might rid himself of a favorite who threatened to presumeupon his master's good humor and outstay his welcome. ButArkwright didn't greatly mind. He was used to Josh's airs. Also, though he would not have confessed it to his inmost self, Josh'spreposterous assumptions, by sheer force of frequent and energeticreiteration, had made upon him an impression of possible validity--not probable, but possible; and the possible was quite enough tostir deep down in Arkwright's soul the all but universal deferencebefore power. It never occurred to him to suspect there might bedesign in Craig's sweeping assertions and assumptions ofsuperiority, that he might be shrewdly calculating that, underneath the ridicule those obstreperous vanities would create, there would gradually form and steadily grow a conviction of solidtruth, a conviction that Joshua Craig was indeed the personage heprofessed to be--mighty, inevitably prevailing, Napoleonic. 

This latent feeling of Arkwright's was, however, not strong enoughto suppress his irritation when, a few days later, he went to theSeverences for tea, and found Margaret and Josh alone in thegarden, walking up and down, engaged in a conversation that wasobviously intimate and absorbing. When he appeared on the verandaJoshua greeted him with an eloquent smile of loving friendship. 

"Ah, there you are now!" he cried. "Well, little ones, I'll leaveyou together. I've wasted as much time as I can spare to-day tofrivolity. "

"Yes, hurry back to work, " said Arkwright. "The ship of state'swobbling badly through your neglect. "

Craig laughed, looking at Margaret. "Grant thinks that's a jest, "said he. "Instead, it's the sober truth. I am engaged in keepingmy Chief in order, and in preventing the President from skulkingfrom the policies he has the shrewdness to advocate but lacks thenerve to put into action. "

Margaret stood looking after him as he strode away. 

"You mustn't mind his insane vanity, " said Arkwright, vaguelyuneasy at the expression of her hazel eyes, at once so dark, mysterious, melancholy, so light and frank and amused. 

"I don't, " said she in a tone that seemed to mean a great deal. 

He, still more uneasy, went on: "A little more experience of theworld and Josh'll come round all right--get a sense ofproportion. "

"But isn't it true?" asked Margaret somewhat absently. 

"What?"

"Why, what he said as he was leaving. Before you came he'd beenhere quite a while, and most of the time he talked of himself--"

Arkwright laughed, but Margaret only smiled, and that ratherreluctantly. 

"And he was telling how hard a time he was having; what withStillwater's corruption and the President's timidity about reallyacting against rich, people--something about criminal suitsagainst what he calls the big thieves--I didn't understand it, orcare much about it, but it gave me an impression of Mr. Craig'spower. "

"There IS some truth in what he says, " Arkwright admitted, with areluctance of which his pride, and his heart as well, wereashamed. "He's become a burr, a thorn, in the Administration, andthey're really afraid of him in a way--though, of course, theyhave to laugh at him as every one else does. "

"Of course, " said Margaret absently. 

Arkwright watched her nervously. "You seem to be getting round tothe state of mind, " said he, "where you'll be in danger ofmarrying our friend Craig. "

Margaret, her eyes carefully away from him, laughed softly--adisturbingly noncommittal laugh. 

"Of course, I'm only joking, " continued Arkwright. "I know YOUcouldn't marry HIM. "

"Why not?"

"Because you don't think he's sincere. "

Her silence made him feel that she thought this as weak as he did. 

"Because you don't love him. "

"No, I certainly don't love him, " said Margaret. 

"Because you don't even like him. "

"What a strange way of advocating your friend you have. "

Arkwright flushed scarlet. "I thought you'd quite dismissed him asa possibility, " he stammered. 

"With a woman every man's a possibility so long as no man's acertainty. "

"Margaret, you couldn't marry a man you didn't like?"

She seemed to reflect. "Not if I were in love with another at thetime, " she said finally. "That's as far as my womanly delicacy--what's left of it after my years in society--can influence me. Andit's stronger, I believe, than the delicacy of most women of oursort. "

They were sitting now on the bench round the circle where thefountain was tossing high its jets in play with the sunshine. Shewas looking very much the woman of the fashionable world, and thesoft grays, shading into blues, that dominated her costume gaveher an exceeding and entrancing seeming of fragility. Arkwrightthought her eyes wonderful; the sweet, powerful yet delicate odorof the lilac sachet powder with which her every garment wassaturated set upon his senses like a love-philter. 

"Yes, you are finer and nobler than most women, " he said giddily. "And that's why it distresses me to hear you talk even in jest, asif you could marry Josh. "

"And a few weeks ago you were suggesting him as just the husbandfor me. "

Arkwright was silent. How could he go on? How tell her why he hadchanged without committing himself to her by a proposal? She wasfascinating--would be an ideal wife. With what style and tasteshe'd entertain--how she'd shine at the head of his table! What asatisfaction it would be to feel that his money was being socompetently spent. But--well, he did not wish to marry, not justyet; perhaps, somewhere in the world, he would find, in the nextfew years, a woman even better suited to him than Margaret. Marrying was a serious business. True, now that divorce had pushedits way up and had become recognized by fashionable society, hadbecome an established social favorite, marriage had been robbed ofone of its terrors. But the other remained--divorce still meantalimony. The woman who trapped an eligible never endangered herhard-earned position; a man must be extremely careful or he wouldfind himself forced to hard choice between keeping on with a womanhe wished to be rid of and paying out a large part of his incomein alimony. It seemed far-fetched to think of these things inconnection with such a woman as Margaret. He certainly never couldgrow tired of her, and her looks were of the sort that had stayingpower. Nor was she in the least likely to be so ungrateful as towish to be rid of him and hold him up for alimony. Still--wouldn't it have been seemingly just as absurd to consider inadvance such sordid matters in connection with any one of a dozencouples among his friends whose matrimonial enterprises had gonesmash? It was said that nowadays girls went to the altar thinkingthat if the husbands they were taking proved unsatisfactory theywould soon be free again, the better off by the title of Mrs. Anda good stiff alimony and some invaluable experience. "I must keepmy head, " thought he. "I must consider how I'd feel after thefatal cards were out. "

"Yes, you were quite eager for me to marry him, " persisted she. She was watching his face out of the corner of her eye. 

"I admit it, " said he huskily. "But we've both changed sincethen. "

"Changed?" said she, perhaps a shade too encouragingly. 

He felt the hook tickling his gills and darted off warily. "Changed toward him, I mean. Changed in our estimate of hisavailability as a husband for you. " He rose; the situation wasbecoming highly perilous. "I must speak to your mother and fly. I'm late for an appointment now. "

As he drove away ten minutes later he drew a long breath. "Gad!"said he half aloud, "Rita'll never realize how close I was toproposing to-day. She ALMOST had me. .. . Though why I should thinkof it that way I don't know. It's damned low and indelicate of me. She ought to be my wife. I love her as much as a man of experiencecan love a woman in advance of trying her out thoroughly. If shehad money I'd not be hesitating, I'm afraid. Then, too, I don'tthink the moral tone of that set she and I travel with is what itought to be. It's all very well for me, but--Well, a man ought tobe ready for almost anything that might happen if his wife wentwith that crowd--or had gone with it before he married her. Notthat I suspect Margaret, though I must say--What a pup this sortof life does make of a man in some ways! . .. Yes, I almost leaped. She'll never know how near I came to it. .. . Perhaps Josh's morethan half-right and I'm oversophisticated. My doubts and delaysmay cost me a kind of happiness I'd rather have than anything onearth--IF it really exists. " There he laughed comfortably. "PoorRita! If she only knew, how cut up she'd be!"

He might not have been so absolutely certain of her ignorancecould he have looked into the Severances' drawing-room just then. For Margaret, after a burst of hysterical gayety, had gone to thefar end of the room on the pretext of arranging some flowers. Andthere, with her face securely hid from the half-dozen round thedistant tea-table, she was choking back the sobs, was muttering:"I'll have to do it! I'm a desperate woman--desperate!"

CHAPTER VI

MR. CRAIG IN SWEET DANGER

It is a rash enterprise to open wide to the world the privatedoors of the family, to expose intimate interiors all unconsciousof outside observation, and all unprepared for it. Such franknesstends to destroy "sympathetic interest, " to make delusion andillusion impossible; it gives cynicism and his brother, pharisaism, their opportunity to simper and to sneer. Still rasheris it to fling wide the doors of a human heart, and, without anyclever arrangement of lights and shades, reveal in the full faceof the sun exactly what goes on there. We lie to othersunconsciously; we lie to ourselves both consciously andunconsciously. We admit and entertain dark thoughts, and at thefirst alarm of exposure deny that we ever saw them before; wecover up our motives, forget where we have hidden them, and waxjustly indignant when they are dug out and confronted with us. Weare scandalized, quite honestly, when others are caught doing whatwe ourselves have done. We are horrified and cry "Monster!" whenothers do what we ourselves refrain from doing only through lackof the bad courage. 

No man is a hero who is not a hero to his valet; and no woman alady unless her maid thinks so. Margaret Severence's new maidSelina was engaged to be married; the lover had gone on a spree, had started a free fight in the streets, and had got himself intojail for a fortnight. It was the first week of his imprisonment, and Selina had committed a series of faults intolerable in a maid. She sent Margaret to a ball with a long tear in her skirt; she lether go out, open in the back, both in blouse and in placket; sheupset a cup of hot cafe au lait on her arm; finally she tore astrap off a shoe as she was fastening it on Margaret's foot. Though no one has been able to fathom it, there must be a reasonfor the perversity whereby our outbursts of anger against anyseriously-offending fellow-being always break on some trivialoffense, never on one of the real and deep causes of wrath. Margaret, though ignorant of her maid's secret grief and shame, had borne patiently the sins of omission and commission, only afew of which are catalogued above; this, though the maid, absorbedin her woe, had not even apologized for a single one of them. Onthe seventh day of discomforts and disasters Margaret lost hertemper at the triviality of the ripping off of the shoe-strap, andpoured out upon Selina not only all her resentment against her butalso all that she had been storing up since the beginning of theseason against life and destiny. Selina sat on the floorstupefied; Margaret, a very incarnation of fury, raged up and downthe room, venting every and any insult a naturally caustic witsuggested. "And, " she wound up, "I want you to clear out at once. I'll send you your month's wages. I can't give you a character--except for honesty. I'll admit, you are too stupid to steal. Clearout, and never let me see you again. "

She swept from the room, drove away to lunch at Mrs. Baker's. Sheacted much as usual, seemed to be enjoying herself, for theluncheon was very good indeed, Mrs. Baker's chef being new fromFrance and not yet grown careless, and the company was amusing. Atthe third course she rose. "I've forgotten something, " said she. "I must go at once. No, no one must be disturbed on my account. I'll drive straight home. " And she was gone before Mrs. Bakercould rise from her chair. 

At home Margaret went up to her own room, through her bedroom toSelina's--almost as large and quite as comfortable as her own andhardly plainer. She knocked. As there was no answer, she openedthe door. On the bed, sobbing heart-brokenly, lay Selina, crushedby the hideous injustice of being condemned capitally merely fortearing off a bit of leather which the shoemaker had neglected tomake secure. 

"Selina, " said Margaret. 

The maid turned her big, homely, swollen face on the pillow, ceased sobbing, gasped in astonishment. 

"I've come to beg your pardon, " said Margaret, not as superior toinferior, nor yet with the much-vaunted "just as if they wereequals, " but simply as one human being to another. The maid satup. One of her braids had come undone and was hanging ludicrouslydown across her cheek. 

"I insulted you, and I'm horribly ashamed. " Wistfully: "Will youforgive me?"

"Oh, law!" cried the maid despairingly, "I'm dreaming. " And shethrew herself down once more and sobbed afresh. 

Margaret knelt beside the bed, put her hand appealingly on thegirl's shoulder. "Can you forgive me, Selina?" said she. "There'sno excuse for me except that I've had so much hard luck, andeverything seems to be going to pieces under me. "

Selina stopped sobbing. "I told a story when I came to you andsaid I'd had three years' experience, " moaned she, not to beoutdone in honorable generosity. "It was only three months aslady's maid, and not much of a lady, neither. "

"I don't in the least care, " Margaret assured her. "I'm notstrictly truthful myself at times, and I do all sorts of horridthings. "

"But that's natural in a lady, " objected Selina, "where thereain't no excuse for me that have only my character. "

Margaret was careful not to let Selina see her smile inappreciation of this unconsciously profound observation upon lifeand morals. "Never mind, " said she; "you're going to be a goodmaid soon. You're learning quickly. "

"No, no, " wailed Selina. "I'm a regular block-head, and my handsis too coarse. "

"But you have a good heart and I like you, " said Margaret. "And Iwant you to forgive me and like me. I'm so lonely and unhappy. AndI need the love of one so close to me all the time as you are. It'd be a real help. "

Selina began to cry again, and then Margaret gave way to tears;and, presently, out came the dreadful story of the lover's fightand jailing; and Margaret, of course, promised to see that he wasreleased at once. When she went to her own room, the maidfollowing to help her efface the very disfiguring evidence oftheir humble, emotional drama, Margaret had recovered her self-esteem and had won a friend, who, if too stupid to be very useful, was also too stupid to be unfaithful. 

As it was on the same day, and scarcely one brief hour later, itmust have been the very same Margaret who paced the alley oftrimmed elms, her eyes so stern and somber, her mouth and chin sohard that her worshipful sister Lucia watched in silent, fascinated dread. At length Margaret noted Lucia, halted and: "Whydon't you read your book?" she cried fiercely. "Why do you sitstaring at me?"

"What a temper you have got--what a NASTY temper!" Lucia wasgoaded into retorting. 

"Haven't I, though!" exclaimed Margaret, as if she gloried in it. "Stop that staring!"

"I could see you were thinking something--something--TERRIBLE!"explained Lucia. 

Margaret's face cleared before a satirical smile. "What a romanceryou are, Lucia. " Then, with a laugh: "I'm taking myselfridiculously seriously today. Temper--giving way to temper--is asure sign of defective intelligence or of defective digestion. "

"Is it about--about Mr. Craig?"

Margaret reddened, dropped to the bench near her sister--evidencethat she was willing to talk, to confide--so far as she everconfided her inmost self--to the one person she could trust. 

"Has he asked you to marry him?"

"No; not yet. "

"But he's going to?"

Margaret gave a queer smile. "He doesn't think so. "

"He wouldn't dare!" exclaimed Lucia. "Why, he's not in the sameclass with you. "

"So! The little romancer is not so romantic that she forgets hersnobbishness. "

"I mean, he's so rude and noisy. I DETEST him!"

"So do I--at times. "

Lucia looked greatly relieved. "I thought you were encouraginghim. It seemed sort of--of--cheap, unworthy of you, to care toflirt with a man like that. "

Margaret's expression became strange indeed. "I am not flirtingwith him, " she said gravely. "I'm going to marry him. "

Lucia was too amazed to speak, was so profoundly shocked that herusually rosy cheeks grew almost pale. 

"Yes, I shall marry him, " repeated Margaret slowly. 

"But you don't love him!" cried Lucia. 

"I dislike him, " replied Margaret. After a pause she added: "Whena woman makes up her mind to marry a man, willy-nilly, she beginsto hate him. It's a case of hunter and hunted. Perhaps, aftershe's got him, she may change. But not till the trap springs--nottill the game's bagged. "

Lucia shuddered. "Oh, Rita!" she cried. And she turned away tobury her face in her arms. 

"I suppose I oughtn't to tell you these things, " pursued Margaret;"I ought to leave you your illusions as long as possible. But--why shouldn't you know the truth? Perhaps, if we all faced thetruth about things, instead of sheltering ourselves in lies, theworld would begin to improve. "

"But I don't see why you chose him, " persisted Lucia. 

"I didn't. Fate did the choosing. "

"But why not somebody like--like Grant Arkwright? Rita, I'm surehe's fond of you. "

"So am I, " said Rita. "But he's got the idea he would be doing mea favor in marrying me; and when a man gets that notion it'sfatal. Also--He doesn't realize it himself, but I'm not primenough to suit him. He imagines he's liberal--that's a commonfailing among men. But a woman who is natural shocks them, andthey are taken in and pleased by one who poses as more innocentand impossible than any human being not perfectly imbecile couldremain in a world that conceals nothing. .. . I despise Grant--Ilike him, but despise him. "

"He IS small, " admitted Lucia. 

"Small? He's infinitesimal. He'd be mean with his wife aboutmoney. He'd run the house himself. He should have been a butler. "

"But, at least, he's a gentleman. " "Oh, yes, " said Margaret. "Yes, I suppose so. I despise him, while, in a way, I respect Craig. "

"He has such a tough-looking skin, " said Lucia. 

"I don't mind that in a man, " replied Margaret. 

"His hands are like--like a coachman's, " said Lucia. "Whenever Ilook at them I think of Thomas. "

"No, they're more like the parrot's--they're claws. . .. That's whyI'm marrying him. "

"Because he has ugly hands?"

"Because they're ugly in just that way. They're the hands of theman who gets things and holds on to things. I'm taking him becausehe can get for me what I need. " Margaret patted her sister on theshoulder. "Cheer up, Lucia! I'm lucky, I tell you. I'm getting, merely at the price of a little lying and a little shuddering, what most people can't get at any price. "

"But he hasn't any money, " objected Lucia. 

"If he had, no doubt you'd find him quite tolerable. Even you--ayoung innocent. "

"It does make a difference, " admitted Lucia. "You see, people haveto have money or they can't live like gentlemen and ladies. "

"That's it, " laughed Margaret. "What's a little thing like self-respect beside ease and comfort and luxury? As grandmother said, alady who'd put anything before luxury has lost her self-respect. "

"Everybody that's nice ought to have money, " declared Lucia. "Thenthe world would be beautiful, full of love and romance, witheverybody clean and well-dressed and never in a hurry. "

But Margaret seemed not to hear. She was gazing at the fountain, her unseeing eyes gloomily reflecting her thoughts. 

"If Mr. Craig hasn't got money why marry him?" asked her sister. 

"He can get it, " replied Margaret tersely. "He's the man totrample and crowd and clutch, and make everybody so uncomfortablethat they'll gladly give him what he's snatching for. " She laughedmockingly. "Yes, I shall get what I want"--then soberly--"if I canget him. "

"Get HIM! Why, he'll be delighted! And he ought to be. "

"No, he oughtn't to be; but he will be. "

"A man like him--marrying a lady! And marrying YOU!" Lucia threwher arms round her sister's neck and dissolved in tears. "Oh, Rita, Rita!" she sobbed. "You are the dearest, loveliest girl onearth. I'm sure you're not doing it for yourself, at all. I'm sureyou're doing it for my sake. "

"You're quite wrong, " said Rita, who was sitting unmoved and waslooking like her grandmother. "I'm doing it for myself. I'm fond, of luxury--of fine dresses and servants and all that. .. . Think ofthe thousands, millions of women who marry just for a home and abare living! . .. No doubt, there's something wrong about the wholething, but I don't see just what. If woman is made to lead asheltered life, to be supported by a man, to be a man's plaything, why, she can't often get the man she'd most like to be theplaything of, can she?"

"Isn't there any such thing as love?" Lucia ventured wistfully. "Marrying for love, I mean. "

"Not among OUR sort of people, except by accident, " Margaretassured her. "The money's the main thing. We don't say so. We trynot to think so. We denounce as low and coarse anybody that doessay so. But it's the truth, just the same . .. . Those who marry formoney regret it, but not so much as those who marry only for love--when poverty begins to pinch and to drag everything fine andbeautiful down into the mud. Besides, I don't love anybody--thankGod! If I did, Lucia, I'm afraid I'd not have the courage!"

"I'm sure you couldn't!" cried Lucia, eager to save all possibleillusion about her sister. Then, remorseful for disloyalthoughts: "And, if it wasn't right, I'm sure you'd not do it. YouMAY fall in love with him afterward. "

"Yes, " assented Margaret, kissing Lucia on an impulse ofgratitude. "Yes, I may. I probably shall. Surely, I'm not to gothrough life never doing anything I ought to do. "

"He's really handsome, in that bold, common way. And you can teachhim. "

Margaret laughed with genuine mirth. "How surprised he'd be, "she exclaimed, "if he could know what's going on in my head!"

"He'll be on his knees to you, " pursued Lucia, wonderfully cheeredup by her confidence in the miracles Margaret's teaching wouldwork. "And he'll do whatever you say. "

"Yes, I'll teach him, " said Margaret, herself more hopeful; formust always improves with acquaintance. "I'll make him overcompletely. Oh, he's not so bad as they think--not by any means. "

Lucia made an exaggerated gesture of shivering. 

"He gets on my nerves, " said she. "He's so horribly abrupt andill-mannered. "

"Yes, I'll train him, " said Margaret, musing aloud. "He doesn'tespecially fret my nerves. A woman gets a good, strong nervoussystem--and a good, strong stomach--after she has been out a fewyears. " She laughed. "And he thinks I'm as fine and delicate as--as--"

"As you look, " suggested Lucia. 

"As I look, " accepted Margaret. "How we do deceive men by ourlooks! Really, Lucia, HE'S far more sensitive than I--far more. "

"That's too silly!"

"If I were a millionth part as coarse as he is he'd fly from me. Yet I'm not flying from him. "

This was unanswerable. Lucia rejoined: "When are you going to--todo it?"

"Right away. .. . I want to get it over with. I can't stand thesuspense. .. . I can't stand it!" And Lucia was awed and silenced bythe sudden, strained look of anguish almost that made Margaret'sface haggard and her eyes wild. 

CHAPTER VII

MRS. SEVERENCE IS ROUSED

Craig swooped upon the Severences the next afternoon. His arrivalswere always swoopings--a swift descent on a day when he was notexpected; or, if the day was forearranged, then the hour would bea surprise. It was a habit with him, a habit deliberately formed. He liked to take people unawares, to create a flurry, reasoningthat he, quick of eye and determined of purpose, could not butprofit by any confusion. He was always in a hurry--that is, heseemed to be. In this also there was deliberation. It does notfollow because a man is in a hurry that he is an important andbusy person; no more does it follow that a man is aninconsequential procrastinator if he is leisurely and dilatory. The significance of action lies in intent. Some men can best gaintheir ends by creating an impression that they are extremely lazy, others by creating the impression that they are exceedinglyenergetic. The important point is to be on the spot at the momentmost favorable for gaining the desired advantage; and it will befound that of the men who get what they want in this world, boththose who seem to hasten and those who seem to lounge are alwaysat the right place at the right time. 

It best fitted Craig, by nature impatient, noisily aggressive, toadopt the policy of rush. He arrived before time usually, fumeduntil he had got everybody into that nervous state in which men, and women, too, will yield more than they ever would in thekindly, melting mood. Though he might stay hours, he, each moment, gave the impression that everybody must speak quickly or he wouldbe gone, might quickly be rid of him by speaking quickly. Obviously, intercourse with him was socially unsatisfactory; butthis did not trouble him, as his theory of life was, get what youwant, never mind the way or the feelings of others. And as he gotby giving, attached his friends by self-interest, made people dofor him what it was just as well that they should do, the netresult, after the confusion and irritation had calmed, was thateverybody felt, on the whole, well content with having beencompelled. It was said of him that he made even his enemies workfor him; and this was undoubtedly true--in the sense in which itwas meant as well as in the deeper sense that a man's enemies, ifhe be strong, are his most assiduous allies and advocates. It wasalso true that he did a great deal for people. Where most men dofavors only when the prospect of return is immediate, he busiedhimself as energetically if returns seemed remote, evenimprobable, as he did when his right hand was taking in withinterest as his left hand gave. It was his nature to be generous, to like to give; it was also his nature to see that a reputationfor real generosity and kindness of heart was an invaluable asset, and that the only way to win such a reputation was by deservingit. 

Craig arrived at the Severences at half-past four, when no one wasexpected until five. "Margaret is dressing, " explained Mrs. Severence, as she entered the drawing-room. "She'll be downpresently--if you care to wait. " This, partly because she hoped hewould go, chiefly because he seemed in such a hurry. 

"I'll wait a few minutes, " said Craig in his sharp, irritatingvoice. 

And he began to tour the room, glancing at pictures, at articleson the tables, mussing the lighter pieces of furniture about. Mrs. Severence, pink-and-white, middle-aged, fattish and obviouslyfutile, watched him with increasing nervousness. He would surelybreak something; or, being by a window when the impulse to departseized him, would leap through, taking sash, curtains and all withhim. 

"Perhaps we'd better go outdoors, " suggested she. She felt veryhelpless, as usual. It was from her that Lucia inherited herlaziness and her taste for that most indolent of all thedissipations, the reading of love stories. 

"Outdoors?" exploded Craig, wheeling on her, as if he hadpreviously been unconscious of her presence. "No. We'll sit here. I want to talk to you. "

And he plumped himself into a chair near by, his claw-like handsupon his knees, his keen eyes and beak-like nose bent toward her. Mrs. Severence visibly shrank. She felt as if that handsome, predatory face were pressed against the very window of her inmostsoul. 

"You wish to talk to me, " she echoed, with a feeble conciliatorysmile. 

"About your daughter, " said Craig, still more curt and aggressive. "Mrs. Severence, your daughter ought to get married. "

Roxana Severence was so amazed that her mouth dropped open. "Married?" she echoed, as if her ears had deceived her. 

The colossal impudence of it! This young man, this extremelycommon young man, daring to talk to her about such a privatematter! And she had not yet known him a month; and only within thelast fortnight had he been making frequent visits--entirely on hisown invitation, for she certainly would not overtly provoke such avisitation as his coming meant. Mrs. Severence would have beenangry had she dared. But Craig's manner was most alarming; whatwould--what would not a person so indifferent to the decencies oflife do if he were crossed?

"She must get married, " pursued Craig firmly. "Do you know whyI've been coming here these past two or three weeks?"

Mrs. Severence was astounded anew. The man was actually about topropose for her daughter! This common man, with nothing!

"It's not my habit to make purposeless visits, " continued he, "especially among frivolous, idle people like you. I've beencoming here to make a study of your daughter. "

He paused. Mrs. Severence gave a feeble, frightened smile, made asound that might have been mirth and again might have been thebeginnings of a hastily-suppressed call for help. 

"And, " Craig went on energetically, "I find that she is a verysuperior sort of person. In another environment she might havebeen a big, strong woman. She's amazing, considering the sickly, sycophantic atmosphere she's been brought up in. Now, I want tosee her married. She's thoroughly discontented and unhappy. She'sbecoming sour and cynical. WE must get her married. It's your dutyto rouse yourself. "

Mrs. Severence did rouse herself just at this moment. Cheeksaflame and voice trembling, she stood and said:

"You are very kind, Mr. Craig, to offer to assist me in bringingup my family. Surely--such--such interest is unusual on brief andvery slight acquaintance. " She rang the bell. "I can show myappreciation in only one way. " The old butler, Williams, appeared. "Williams, show this gentlemen out. " And she left the room. 

Williams, all frigid dignity and politeness, stood at the largeentrance doors, significantly holding aside one curtain. Craigrose, his face red. "Mrs. Severence isn't very well, " said henoisily to the servant, as if he were on terms of closest intimacywith the family. "Tell Margaret I'll wait for her in the garden. "And he rushed out by the window that opened on the veranda, leaving the amazed butler at the door, uncertain what to do. 

Mrs. Severence, ascending the stairs in high good humor withherself at having handled a sudden and difficult situation as wellas she had ever read of its being handled in a novel, met herdaughter descending. 

"Sh-h!" said she in a whisper, for she had not heard the frontdoor close. "He may not be gone. Come with me. "

Margaret followed her mother into the library at the head of thestairs. 

"It was that Craig man, " explained Mrs. Severence, when she hadthe door closed. "What DO you think he had the impudence to do?"

"I'm sure I can't imagine, " said Margaret, impatient. 

"He proposed for you!"

Margaret reflected a brief instant. "Nonsense!" she saiddecisively. "He's not that kind. You misunderstood him. "

"I tell you he did!" cried her mother. "And I ordered him out ofthe house. "

"What?" screamed Margaret, clutching her mother's arm. "WHAT?"

"I ordered him out of the house, " stammered her mother. 

"I wish you'd stick to your novels and let me attend to my ownaffairs, " cried Margaret, pale with fury. "Is he gone?"

"I left Williams attending to it. Surely, Rita--"

But Margaret had flung the door open and was darting down thestairs. "Where is he?" she demanded fiercely of Williams, still inthe drawing-room doorway. 

"In the garden, ma'am, " said Williams. "He didn't pay noattention. "

But Margaret was rushing through the drawing-room. At the Frenchwindows she caught sight of him, walking up and down in his usualquick, alert manner, now smelling flowers, now staring up into thetrees, now scrutinizing the upper windows of the house. She drewback, waited until she had got her breath and had composed herfeatures. Then, with the long skirts of her graceful pale-bluedress trailing behind her, and a big white sunshade open andresting upon her shoulder, she went down the veranda steps andacross the lawn toward him. He paused, gazed at her in frank--vulgarly frank--admiration; just then, it seemed to her, he neversaid or did or looked anything except in the vulgarest way. 

"You certainly are a costly-looking luxury, " said he loudly, whenthere were still a dozen yards between them. "Oh, there's yourmother at the window, upstairs--her bedroom window. "

"How did you know it was her bedroom?" asked Margaret. 

"While I was waiting for you to come down one day I sent for oneof the servants and had him explain the lay of the house. "

"Really!" said Margaret, satirical and amused. "I suppose therewas no mail on the table or you'd have read that while youwaited?"

"There you go, trying to say clever, insulting things. Why not befrank? Why not be direct?"

"Why should I, simply because YOU wish it? You don't half realizehow amusing you are. "

"Oh, yes, I do, " retorted he, with a shrewd, quick glance fromthose all-seeing eyes of his. 

"Half, I said. You do half realize. I told you once before that Iknew what a fraud you were. "

"I play my game in my own way, " evaded he; "and it seems to bedoing nicely, thank you. "

"But the further you go, the harder it'll be for you to progress. "

"Then the harder for those opposing me. I don't make it easy forthose who are making it hard for me. I get 'em so busy nursingtheir own wounds that they've no longer time to bother me. I'vetold you before, and I tell you again, I shall go where I please. "

"Let me see, " laughed Margaret; "it was Napoleon--wasn't it?--whoused to talk that way?"

"And you think I'm imitating him, eh?"

"You do suggest it very often. "

"I despise him. A wicked, little, dago charlatan who was put outof business as soon as he was really opposed. No!--no Waterloo forme! . .. How's your mother? She got sick while I was talking to herand had to leave the room. "

"Yes, I know, " said Margaret. 

"You ought to make her take more exercise. Don't let her set footin a carriage. We are animals, and nature has provided thatanimals shall walk to keep in health. Walking and things like thatare the only sane modes of getting about. Everything aristocraticis silly. As soon as we begin to rear and strut we stumble intoour graves--But it's no use to talk to you about that. I came onanother matter. "

Margaret's lips tightened; she hastily veiled her eyes. 

"I've taken a great fancy to you, " Craig went on. "That's why I'vewasted so much time on you. What you need is a husband--a goodhusband. Am I not right?"

Margaret, pale, said faintly: "Go on. "

"You know I'm right. Every man and every woman ought to marry. Ahome--children--THAT'S life. The rest is all incidental--trivial. Do you suppose I could work as I do if it wasn't that I'm gettingready to be a family man? I need love--sympathy--tenderness. People think I'm hard and ambitious. But they don't know. I've gota heart, overflowing with tenderness, as some woman'll find outsome day. But I didn't come to talk about myself. "

Margaret made a movement of surprise--involuntary, startled. 

"No, I don't always talk about myself, " Craig went on; "and I'lllet you into a secret. I don't THINK about myself nearly so muchas many of these chaps who never speak of themselves. However, asI was saying, I'm going to get you a husband. Now, don't you getsick, as your mother did. Be sensible. Trust me. I'll see youthrough--and that's more than any of these cheap, shallow peopleround you would do. "

"Well?" said Margaret. 

"You and Grant Arkwright are going to marry. Now don't pretend--don't protest. It's the proper thing and it must be done. You likehim?"

As Craig was looking sharply at her she felt she must answer. Shemade a vague gesture of assent. 

"Of course!" said Craig. "If you and he led a natural life you'dhave been married long ago. Now, I'm going to dine with him to-night. I'll lay the case before him. He'll be out here after youto-morrow. "

Margaret trembled with anger. Two bright spots burned in hercheeks. "You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "No, noteven you!"

"And why not?" demanded Craig calmly. "Do you suppose I'm going tostand idly by, and let two friends of mine, two people I'm as fondof as I am of you two creatures, make fools of yourselves? No. Ishall bring you together. "

Margaret rose. "If you say a word to Grant I'll never speak to youagain. And I assure you I shouldn't marry HIM if he were the lastman on earth. "

"If you only knew men better!" exclaimed Craig earnestly. His eyesfascinated her, and his sharp, penetrating voice somehow seemed toreach to her very soul and seize it and hold it enthralled. "Mydear child, Grant Arkwright is one man in a million. I've beenwith him in times that show men's qualities. Don't judge men bywhat they are ordinarily. They don't reveal their real selves. Wait till a crisis comes--then you see manhood or lack of it. Lifeis bearable, at the worst, for any of us in the routine. But whenthe crisis comes we need, not only all our own strength, but allwe can rally to our support. I tell you, Miss Severence, Grant isone of the men that can be relied on. I despise his surface--as Ido yours. But it's because I see the man--the manhood--beneaththat surface, that I love him. And I want him to have a womanworthy of him. That means YOU. You, too, have the soul that makesa human being--a real aristocrat--of the aristocracy, of strongand honest hearts. "

Craig's face was splendid, was ethereal in its beauty, yetflashing with manliness. He looked as she had seen him that nighttwo years before, when he had held even her and her worldlyfriends spellbound, had made them thrill with ideas of nobilityand human helpfulness foreign to their everyday selves. She satsilent when he had finished, presently drew a long breath. 

"Why aren't you always like that?" she exclaimed half to herself. 

"You'll marry Grant?"

She shook her head positively. "Impossible. "

"Why not?"

"Impossible, " she repeated. "And you mustn't speak of it to me--orto him. I appreciate your motive. I thank you--really, I do. Itmakes me feel better, somehow, to have had any one think so wellof me as you do. And Grant ought to be proud of your friendship. "

Their eyes met. She flushed to the line of her hair and her glancefell, for she felt utterly ashamed of herself for the design uponhim which she had been harboring. "Let us go in and join theothers, " said she confusedly. And her color fled, returned in aflood. 

"No, I'm off, " replied he, in his ordinary, sharp, bustling way. "I'm not defeated. I've done well--very well, for a beginning. "And he gave her hand his usual firm, uncomfortable clasp, andrushed away. 

She walked up and down full fifteen minutes before she went towardthe house. At the veranda Lucia intercepted her. "Did he?" sheasked anxiously. 

Margaret looked at her vaguely, then smiled. "No, he did not. "

"He didn't?" exclaimed Lucia, at once disappointed and relieved. 

"Not yet, " said Margaret. She laughed, patted Lucia's full-blowncheek. "Not quite yet. " And she went on in to tea, humming toherself gayly; she did not understand her own sudden exceedinghigh spirits. 

CHAPTER VIII

MR. CRAIG CONFIDES

Craig did not leave Margaret more precipitately than he hadintended; that would have been impossible, as he always strove tomake his departures seem as startling and mysterious as adematerialization. But he did leave much sooner than he hadintended, and with only a small part of what he had planned to saysaid. He withdrew to think it over; and in the long walk from theSeverences to his lodgings in the Wyandotte he did think it overwith his usual exhaustive thoroughness. 

He had been entirely sincere in his talk with Margaret. He was ashrewd judge both of human nature and of situations, and he sawthat a marriage between Margaret and Grant would be in every wayadmirable. He appreciated the fine qualities of both, and realizedthat they would have an uncommonly good chance of hitting it offtranquilly together. Of all their qualities of mutual adaptabilitythe one that impressed him most deeply was the one at which he wasalways scoffing--what he called their breeding. Theoretically, and so far as his personal practice went, he genuinely despised"breeding"; but he could not uproot a most worshipful reverencefor it, a reverence of which he was ashamed. He had no "breeding"himself; he was experiencing in Washington a phase of life whichwas entirely new to him, and it had developed in him the snobbishinstincts that are the rankest weeds in the garden ofcivilization. Their seeds fly everywhere, are sown broadcast, threaten the useful plants and the flowers incessantly, contriveto grow, to flourish even, in the desert places. Craig had aninstinct against this plague; but he was far too self-confident tosuspect that it could enter his own gates and attack his ownfields. He did not dream that the chief reason why he thoughtGrant and Margaret so well suited to each other was the reason ofsnobbishness; that he was confusing their virtues with theirvices; and was admiring them for qualities which were blightingtheir usefulness and even threatening to make sane happinessimpossible for either. It was not their real refinement that headmired, and, at times, envied; it was their showy affectations ofrefinement, those gaudy pretenses that appeal to the crude humanimagination, like uniforms and titles. 

It had not occurred to him that Margaret might possibly be willingto become his wife. He would have denied it as fiercely to himselfas to others, but at bottom he could not have thought of himselfas at ease in any intimate relation with her. He found herbeautiful physically, but much too fine and delicate to becomfortable with. He could be brave, bold, insolent with her, inan impersonal way; but personally he could not have ventured theslightest familiarity, now that he really appreciated "what arefined, delicate woman is. "

But the easiest impression for a woman to create upon a man--or aman upon a woman--is the impression of being in love. We are soconscious of our own merits, we are so eager to have themappreciated, that we will exaggerate or misinterpret any word orlook, especially from a person of the opposite sex, into a tributeto them. When Craig pleaded for Grant and Margaret, moved by hiseloquent sincerity, dropped her eyes and colored in shame for herplans about him, in such black contrast with his frank generosity, he noted her change of expression, and instantly his vanityflashed into his mind: "Can it be that she loves me?"

The more he reflected upon it the clearer it became to him thatshe did. Yes, here was being repeated the old story of theattraction of extremes. "She isn't so refined that appreciation ofreal manhood has been refined out of her, " thought he. "And whyshouldn't she love me? What does all this nonsense of family andbreeding amount to, anyway?" His mind was in great confusion. Atone moment he was dismissing the idea of such delicateness, suchsuper-refined super-sensitiveness being taken with a man of hisimperfect bringing-up and humble origin. The next moment his self-esteem was bobbing again, was jauntily assuring him that he was "aborn king" and, therefore, would naturally be discovered and lovedby a truly princess--"And, by Heaven, she IS a princess of theblood royal! Those eyes, those hands, those slender feet!" Havingno great sense of humor he did not remind himself here howmalicious nature usually deprives royalty of the outward marks ofaristocracy to bestow them upon peasant. 

At last he convinced himself that she was actually burning withlove for him, that she had lifted the veil for an instant--hadlifted it deliberately to encourage him to speak for himself. Andhe was not repelled by this forwardness, was, on the contrary, immensely flattered. It is the custom for those of high station toreassure those of lower, to make them feel that they may draw nearwithout fear. A queen seeking a consort among princes alwaysbegins the courting. A rich girl willing to marry a poor man letshim see she will not be offended if he offers to add himself toher possessions. Yes, it would be quite consistent with sex-custom, with maidenly modesty, for a Severence to make the firstopen move toward a Josh Craig. 

"But do I want her?"

That was another question. He admired her, he would be proud tohave such a wife. "She's just the sort I need, to adorn thestation I'm going to have. " But what of his dreams of family life, of easy, domestic undress, which she would undoubtedly find coarseand vulgar? "It would be like being on parade all the time--she'sbeen used to that sort of thing her whole life, but it'd make memiserable. " Could he afford a complete, a lifelong sacrifice ofcomfort to gratify a vanity?

He had devoted much thought to the question of marriage. On theone hand he wanted money; for in politics, with the people sostupid and so fickle, a man without an independence, at least, would surely find himself, sooner or later, in a position where hemust choose between retiring and submitting himself to somepowerful interest--either a complete sale, or a mortgage hardlyless galling to pride, no less degrading to self-respect. On theother hand he wanted a home--a wife like his mother, domestic, attentive, looking out for his comfort and his health, herselftaking care of the children. And he had arrived at a compromise. He would marry a girl out West somewhere, a girl of some smalltown, brought up somewhat as he had been brought up, not shockedby what Margaret Severance would regard as his vulgarities--awoman with whom he felt equal and at ease. He would select such awoman, provided, in addition, with some fortune--several hundredthousands, at least, enough to make him independent. Such had beenhis plan. But now that he had seen Margaret, had come toappreciate her through studying her as a possible wife for hisunattached friend Arkwright, now that he had discovered hersecret, her love for him--how could he fit her into his career?Was it possible? Was it wise?

"The best is none too good for me, " said he to himselfswaggeringly. No doubt about it--no, indeed, not the slightest. But--well, everybody wouldn't realize this, as yet. And it must beadmitted that those mere foppish, inane nothings did produce aseeming of difference. Indeed, it must even be admitted that theway Margaret had been brought up would make it hard for her, withher sensitive, delicate nerves, to bear with him if she reallyknew him. A hot wave passed over his body at the thought. "Howashamed I'd be to have her see my wardrobe. I really must brace upin the matter of shirts, and in the quality of underclothes andsocks. " No, she probably would be shocked into aversion if shereally knew him--she, who had been surrounded by servants inlivery all her life; who had always had a maid to dress her, toarrange a delicious bath for her every morning and every evening, to lay out, from a vast and thrilling store of delicate clothing, the fresh, clean, fine, amazingly costly garments that were tohave the honor and the pleasure of draping that aristocratic bodyof hers. "Why, her maid, " thought he, "is of about the sameappearance and education as my aunts. Old Williams is a far morecultured person than my uncles or brothers-in-law. " Of course, Selina and Williams were menials, while his male kin were men andhis female relatives women, "and all of them miles ahead ofanything in this gang when it comes to the real thing--character. "Still, so far as appearances went--"I'm getting to be a damned, cheap snob!" cried he aloud. "To hell with the whole crowd! I wantnothing to do with them!"

But Margaret, in her beautiful garments, diffusing perfume just asher look and manner diffused the aroma of gentle breeding--Theimage of her was most insidiously alluring; he could not banishit. "And, damn it all, isn't she just a human being? What's becomeof my common-sense that I treat these foolish trifles as if theywere important?"

Grant Arkwright came while the debate was still on. He soon notedthat something was at work in Josh's mind to make him so silentand glum, so different from his usual voluble, flamboyant self. "What's up, Josh? What deviltry are you plotting now to add topoor old Stillwater's nervous indigestion?"

"I'm thinking about marriage, " said Craig, lighting a cigaretteand dropping into the faded magnificence of an ex-salon chair. 

"Good business!" exclaimed Arkwright. 

"It's far more important that you get married than that I do, "explained Craig. "At present you don't amount to a damn. You'relike one of those twittering swallows out there. As a married manyou'd at least have the validity that attaches to every husbandand father. "

"If I could find the right girl, " said Grant. 

"I thought I had found her for you, " continued Craig. "But, onsecond thoughts, I've about decided to take her for myself. "

"Oh, you have?" said Arkwright, trying to be facetious of look andtone. 

"Yes, " said Josh, in his abrupt, decisive way. He threw thecigarette into the empty fireplace and stood up. "I think I'lltake your advice and marry Miss Severance. "

"Really!" mocked Grant; but he was red with anger, was mutteringunder his breath, "Insolent puppy!"

"Yes, I think she'll do. " Craig spoke as if his verdict wereprobably overpartial to her. "It's queer about families and thekind of children they have. Every once in a while you'll find adumb ass of a man whose brain will get to boiling with liquor orsome other ferment, and it'll incubate an idea, a real idea. It'sthat way about paternity--or, rather, maternity. Now who'd thinkthat inane, silly mother of Margaret's could have brought such aperson as she is into the world?"

"Mrs. Severence is a very sweet and amiable LADY, " said Grantcoldly. 

"Pooh!" scoffed Craig. "She's a nothing--a puff of wind--a nit. Such as she, by the great gross, wouldn't count one. "

"I doubt if it would be--wise--politically, I mean--for you tomarry a woman of--of the fashionable set. " Grant spoke judicially, with constraint in his voice. 

"You're quite right there, " answered Craig promptly. "Still, it'sa temptation. .. . I've been reconsidering the idea since Idiscovered that she loves me. "

Grant leaped to his feet. "Loves you!" he shouted. Josh smiledcalmly. "Loves me, " said he. "Why not, pray?"

"I--I--I--don't know, " answered Grant weakly. 

"Oh, yes, you do. You think I'm not good enough for her--as ifthis were not America, but Europe. " And he went on loftily: "Youought to consider what such thoughts mean, as revelations of yourown character, Grant. "

"You misunderstood me entirely, " protested Grant, red and guilty. "Didn't I originally suggest her to you?"

"But you didn't really mean it, " retorted Craig with a laugh whichGrant thought the quintessence of impertinence. "You never dreamedshe'd fall in love with me. "

"Josh, " said Grant, "I wish you wouldn't say that sort of thing. It's not considered proper in this part of the country for agentleman to speak out that way about women. "

"What's there to be ashamed of in being in love? Besides, aren'tyou my best friend, the one I confide everything to?"

"You confide everything to everybody. "

Craig looked amused. "There are only two that can keep a secret, "said he, "nobody and everybody. I trust either the one or theother, and neither has ever betrayed me. "

"To go back to the original subject: I'd prefer you didn't talk tome in that way about that particular young lady. "

"Why? . .. Because you're in love with her, yourself?"

Grant silently stared at the floor. 

"Poor old chap, " said Craig sympathetically. 

Arkwright winced, started to protest, decided it was just as wellto let Craig think what he pleased at that juncture. 

"Poor old chap!" repeated Josh. "Well, you needn't despair. It'strue she isn't in love with you and is in love with me. But if Ikeep away from her and discourage her it'll soon die out. Women ofthat sort of bringing up aren't capable of any enduring emotion--unless they have outside aid in keeping it alive. "

"No, thank you, " said Arkwright bitterly. "I decline to be put inthe position of victim of your generosity. Josh, let me tell you, your notion that she's in love with you is absurd. I'd advise younot to go round confiding it to people, in your usual fashion. You'll make yourself a laughing stock. "

"I've told no one but you, " protested Craig. 

"Have you seen any one else since you got the idea?"

"No, I haven't, " he admitted with a laugh. "Now that you've toldme the state of your heart I'll not speak of her feeling for me. Igive you my word of honor on that. I understand how a chap likeyou, full of false pride, would be irritated at having people knowhe'd married a woman who was once in love with some one else. Forof course you'll marry her. "

"I'm not sure of that. I haven't your sublime self-confidence, you know. "

"Oh, I'll arrange it, " replied Craig, full of enthusiasm. "Infact, I had already begun, this very afternoon, when she let mesee that she loved me and, so, brought me up standing. "

"Damn it, man, DON'T say that!" cried Grant, all afire. "I tellyou it's crazy, conceited nonsense. "

"All right, all right, old chap, " soothed Josh. 

And it frenzied Arkwright to see that he said this merely to sparethe feelings of an unrequited lover, not at all because he hadbegun to doubt Margaret's love. "Come down to dinner and let'stalk no more about it, " said Grant, with a great effortrestraining himself. "I tell you, Josh, you make it mighty hardsometimes for me to remember what I owe you. "

Craig wheeled on him with eyes that flashed and pierced. "My youngfriend, " said he, "you owe me nothing. And let me say to you, oncefor all, you are free to break with me at any instant--you or anyother man. Whenever I find I'm beginning to look on a man asnecessary to me I drop him--break with him. I am necessary to myfriends, not they to me. I like you, but be careful how you getimpertinent with me. "

Craig eyed him fiercely and steadily until Arkwright's gazedropped. Then he laughed friendly. "Come along, Grant, " said he. "You're a good fellow, and I'll get you the girl. " And he linkedhis arm in Arkwright's and took up another phase of himself as thetopic of his monologue. 

CHAPTER IX

SOMEWHAT CYCLONIC

Margaret, on the way home afoot from the White House, where shehad been lunching with the President's niece, happened upon Craigstanding with his hands behind his back before the statue ofJackson. He was gazing up at the fierce old face with anexpression so animated that passers-by were smiling broadly. Shethought he was wholly absorbed; but when she was about half-wayacross his range of vision he hailed her. "I say, Miss Severence!"he cried loudly. 

She flushed with annoyance. But she halted, for she knew that ifshe did not he would only shout at her and make a scene. 

"I'll walk with you, " said he, joining her when he saw she had nointention of moving toward him. 

"Don't let me draw you from your devotions, " protested she. "I'mjust taking a car, anyhow. "

"Then I'll ride home with you and walk back. I want to talk with awoman--a sensible woman--not easy to find in this town. "

Margaret was disliking him, his manner was so offensively familiarand patronizing--and her plans concerning him made hercontemptuous of herself, and therefore resentful against him. "I'mgreatly flattered, " said she. 

"No, you're not. But you ought to be. I suppose if you had metthat old chap on the pedestal there when he was my age you'd havefelt toward him much as you do toward me. "

"And I suppose he'd have been just about as much affected by it asyou are. "

"Just about. It was a good idea, planting his statue there to warnthe fellow that happens to be in the White House not to get toocultured. You know it was because the gang that was in got toorefined and forgot whom this country belonged to that old Jacksonwas put in office. The same thing will happen again. "

"And you'll be the person?" suggested Margaret with a smile ofraillery. 

"If I show I'm fit for the job, " replied Craig soberly. It was thefirst time she had ever heard him admit a doubt about himself. "The question is, " he went on, "have I got the strength ofcharacter and the courage? . .. What do you think?"

"I don't know anything about it, " said Margaret with politeindifference. "There comes my car. I'll not trouble you toaccompany me. " She put out her hand. "Goodby. " She did not realizeit, or intend it, but she had appealed to one of his powerfulinstincts, a powerful instinct in all predatory natures--theinstinct to pursue whatever seems to be flying. 

He shook his head at the motorman, who was bringing the car to ahalt; the car went on. He stood in front of her. Her color washigh, but she could not resist the steady compulsion of his eyes. "I told you I wanted to talk with you, " said he. "Do you know whyI was standing before that statue?"

"I do not, " Margaret answered coldly. 

"I was trying to get the courage to ask you to be my wife. "

She gave a queer laugh. "Well, you seem to have got what yousought, " said she. He had, as usual, taken her wholly unawares. 

"Not so fast, " replied Craig. "I haven't asked you yet. "

Margaret did not know whether she most wished to laugh or to burstout in anger. "I'm sure I don't care anything about it, one way orthe other, " said she. 

"Why say those insincere things--to ME?" he urged. She had begunto walk, and he was keeping pace with her. "Jackson, " heproceeded, "was a man of absolute courage. He took the woman hewanted--defied public opinion to do it--and it only made him themore popular. I had always intended to strengthen myself bymarrying. If I married you I'd weaken myself politically, while ifI married some Western girl, some daughter of the people, I'd makea great popular stroke. "

"Well--do it, then, " said Margaret. "By all means do it. "

"Oh, but there's you, " exclaimed Craig. "What'd I do about you?"

"That's true, " said Margaret mockingly. "But what am I to standbetween a man and ambition?"

"I say that to myself, " replied Craig. "But it's no use. " His eyesthrilled her, his voice seemed to melt her dislike, her resolve, as he said: "There you are, and there you stay, Margaret. Andyou're not at all fit to be my wife. You haven't been brought upright. You ought to marry some man like Grant. He's just the manfor you. Why did you ever fall in love with me?"

She stopped short, stared at him in sheer amazement. "I!"exclaimed she. "I--in love with YOU!"

He halted before her. "Margaret, " he said tenderly, "can you denyit?"

She flushed; hung her head. The indignant denial died upon herlips. 

He sighed. "You see, it is fate, " said he. "But I'll manage itsomehow. I'll win out in spite of any, of every handicap. "

She eyed him furtively. Yes, if she wished to make a marriage ofambition she could not do better. All Washington was laughing athim; but she felt she had penetrated beneath the surface thatexcited their mirth--had seen qualities that would carry himwherever he wished to go--wherever she, with her grandmother's ownwill, wished him to go. 

"And, " pursued he, "I'm far too rough and coarse for you--you, thequintessence of aristocracy. "

She flushed with double delight--delight at this flattery and thedeeper delight a woman feels when a man shows her the weakness inhimself by which she can reach and rule him. 

"I'm always afraid of offending your delicacy, " he went fatuouslyon. "You're the only person I ever felt that way about. Absolutelythe only one. But you've got to expect that sort of thing in a manwho prevails in such a world as this. When men get too high-tonedand aristocratic, too fussy about manners and dress, along comereal men to ride them down and under. But I'll try to beeverything you wish--to you. Not to the others. That would defeatour object; for I'm going to take my wife high--very high. "

Yes, he would indeed take her high--very high. Now that what shewanted, what she must have, was offering, how could she refuse?They were crossing another square of green. He drew--almostdragged--her into one of the by-paths, seized her in his arms, kissed her passionately. "I can't resist you--I can't!" he cried. 

"Don't--don't!" she murmured, violently agitated. "Some one mightsee!"

"Some one is seeing, no doubt, " he said, his breath comingquickly, a look that was primeval, ferocious almost, in his eyesas they devoured her. And, despite her protests and struggles, shewas again in those savage arms of his, was again shrinking andburning and trembling under his caresses. She flung herself away, sank upon a bench, burst out crying. 

"What is it, Margaret?" he begged, alarmed, yet still looking asif he would seize her again. 

"I don't know--I don't know, " she replied. 

Once more she tried to tell him that she did not love him, but thewords would not come. She felt that he would not believe her;indeed, she was not sure of her own heart, of the meaning of thoseunprecedented emotions that had risen under his caresses, and thatstirred at the memory of them. "Perhaps I am trying to love him, "she said to herself. "Anyhow, I must marry him. I can trifle withmy future no longer. I must be free of this slavery tograndmother. I must be free. He can free me, and I can manage him, for he is afraid of me. "

"Did I hurt you?" Craig was asking. 

She nodded. 

"I am so sorry, " he exclaimed. "But when I touched you I forgot--everything!"

She smiled gently at him. "I didn't dream you cared for me, " shesaid. 

He laughed with a boisterousness that irritated her. "I'd neverhave dared tell you, " replied he, "if I hadn't seen that you caredfor me. "

Her nerves winced, but she contrived to make her tone passable asshe inquired: "Why do you say that?"

"Oh--the day in the garden--the day I came pleading for Grant. Isaw it in your eyes--You remember. "

Margaret could not imagine what he had misinterpreted soflatteringly to himself. But what did it matter? How like ironicfate, to pierce him with a chance shaft when all the shafts shehad aimed had gone astray!

She was startled by his seizing her again. At his touch sheflamed. "Don't!" she cried imperiously. "I don't like it!"

He laughed, held her the more tightly, kissed her half a dozentimes squarely upon the lips. "Not that tone to me, " said he. "Ishall kiss you when I please. "

She was furiously angry; but again her nerves were trembling, wereresponding to those caresses, and even as she hated him forviolating her lips, she longed for him to continue to violatethem. She started up. "Let us go, " she cried. 

He glanced at his watch. "I'll have to put you in a car, " said he. "I forgot all about my appointment. " And he fumed with impatiencewhile she was adjusting her hat and veil pushed awry by hisboisterous love-making. "It's the same old story, " he went on. "Woman weakens man. You are a weakness with me--one that willcost me dear. "

She burned with a sense of insult. She hated him, longed to pourout denunciations, to tell him just what she thought of him. Shefelt a contempt for herself deeper than her revulsion against him. In silence she let him hurry her along to a car; she scarcelyheard what he was saying--his tactless, angry outburst againsthimself and her for his tardiness at that important appointment. She dropped into the seat with a gasp of relief. She felt shemust--for form's sake--merely for form's sake--glance out of thewindow for the farewell he would be certain to expect; she must doher part, now that she had committed herself. She glanced; he wasrushing away, with never a backward look--or thought. It was hercrowning humiliation. "I'll make him pay for all this, some day!"she said to herself, shaking with anger, her grandmother's owntemper raging cyclonically within her. 

CHAPTER X

A BELATED PROPOSAL

Her mood--outraged against Craig, sullenly determined to marryhim, angry with her relatives, her mother no less than hergrandmother, because they were driving her to these desperatemeasures--this mood persisted, became intenser, more imperious inits demand for a sacrifice as the afternoon wore on. When GrantArkwright came, toward six o'clock, she welcomed him, the first-comer bringing her the longed-for chance to discharge the vials ofher wrath. And she noted with pleasure that he, too, was in ablack humor. Before she could begin he burst forth:

"What's this that Josh Craig has been telling me? He seems to havegone stark mad!"

Margaret eyed him with icy disdain. "If there is any quality thatcan be called the most repulsive, " said she, "it is treachery. You've fallen into a way of talking of your friend Craig behindhis back that's unworthy--perhaps not of you, but certainly ofthe person you pose as being. "

"Did you propose to him this afternoon?" demanded Grant. 

Margaret grew cold from head to foot. "Does he say I did?" shesucceeded in articulating. 

"He does. He was so excited that he jumped off a car and held mean hour telling me, though he was late for one of those importantconferences he's always talking about. "

Margaret had chosen her course. "Did he ask you to run and tell mehe had told you?" inquired she, with the vicious gleam of avicious temper in her fine hazel eyes. 

"No, " admitted Grant. "I suppose I've no right to tell you. But itwas such an INFERNAL lie. "

"Did you tell him so?"

Arkwright grew red. 

"I see you did not, " said Margaret. "I knew you did not. Now, letme tell you, I don't believe Craig said anything of the kind. Aman who'd betray a friend is quite capable of lying about him. "

"Margaret! Rita Severence!" Grant started up, set down his teacup, stood looking down at her, his face white to the lips. "Your toneis not jest; it is insult. "

"It was so intended. " Margaret's eyes were upon him, hergrandmother's own favorite expression in them. Now that she was nolonger a matrimonial offering she felt profoundly indifferent toeligible men, rejoiced in her freedom to act toward them as shewished. "I do not permit any one to lie to me about the man I haveengaged to marry. "

"What!" shouted Grant. "It was TRUE?"

"Go out into the garden and try to calm yourself, Grant, " said thegirl haughtily. "And if you can't, why--take yourself off home. And don't come back until you are ready to apologize. "

"Rita, why didn't you give me a hint? I'd have married you myself. I'm willing to do it. .. . Rita, will you marry me?"

Margaret leaned back upon the sofa and laughed until his bloodbegan to run alternately hot and cold. 

"I beg your pardon, " he stammered. "I did not realize how itsounded. Only--you know how things are with our sort of people. And, as men go, I can't help knowing I'm what's called a catch, and that you're looking for a suitable husband. .. . As it'sapparently a question of him or me, and as you've admitted you gothim by practically proposing--. .. Damn it all, Rita, I want you, and I'm not going to let such a man as he is have you. I neverdreamed you'd bother with him seriously or I'd not have been soslow. "

Margaret was leaning back, looking up at him. "I've sunk evenlower than I thought, " she said, bringing to an end the painfulsilence which followed this speech. 

"What do you mean, Rita?"

She laughed cynically, shrugged her shoulders. First, Craig'simpudent assumption that she loved him, and his rude violation ofher lips; now, this frank insolence of insult, the more savagethat it was unconscious--and from the oldest and closest of hermen friends. If one did not die under such outrages, but continuedto live and let live, one could save the situation only bylaughing. So, Margaret laughed--and Arkwright shivered. 

"For God's sake, Rita!" he cried. "I'd not have believed that lipsso young and fresh as yours could utter such a cynical sound. "

She looked at him with disdainful, derisive eyes. "It's fortunatefor me that I have a sense of humor, " said she. "And for you, " sheadded. 

"But I am in earnest, I mean it--every word I said. "

"That's just it, " replied she. "You meant it--every word. "

"You will marry me?"

"I will not. "

"Why?"

"For several reasons. For instance, I happen to be engaged toanother man. "

"That is--nothing. " He snapped his fingers. 

She elevated her brows. "Nothing?"

"He'd not keep his promise to you if--In fact, he was debatingwith me whether or not he'd back down. "

"Either what you say is false, " said she evenly, "or you arebetraying the confidence of a friend who trusted in your honor. "

"Oh, he said it, all right. You know how he is about confidences. "

"No matter. "

Margaret rose slowly, a gradual lifting of her long, supplefigure. Grant watching, wondered why he had never before realizedthat the sensuous charm of her beauty was irresistible. "Wherewere my eyes?" he asked himself. "She's beyond any of the womenI've wasted so much time on. "

She was saying with quiet deliberateness: "A few days ago, Grant, I'd have jumped at your offer--to be perfectly frank. Whyshouldn't I be frank! I'm sick of cowardly pretenses and lies. Ipurpose henceforth to be myself--almost. " A look within and aslightly derisive smile. "Almost. I shall hesitate and trifle nolonger. I shall marry your friend Craig. "

"You'll do nothing of the kind, " raged Arkwright. "If you make itnecessary I'll tell him why you're marrying him. "

"You may do as you like about that, " replied she. "He'll probablyunderstand why you are trying to break off our engagement. "

"You're very confident of your power over him, " taunted he. 

She saw again Craig's face as he was kissing her. "Very, " repliedshe. 

"You'll see. It's a mere physical attraction. "

She smiled tantalizingly, her long body displayed against thewindow-casing, her long, round arms bare below the elbows, herhazel eyes and sensuous lips alluring. "You, yourself, neverthought of proposing to me until I had made myself physicallyattractive to you, " said she. "Now--have I power over you, ornot?"

She laughed as his color mounted, and the look she had seen inCraig's eyes blazed out in his. 

"How little physical charm you have for me, " she went on. "BesideCraig you're like an electric fan in competition with a storm-wind. Now, Craig--" She closed her eyes and drew a long breath. 

Arkwright gnawed his lip. "What a--a DEVIL you ARE!" he exclaimed. 

"I wonder why it is a woman never becomes desirable to some menuntil they find she's desired elsewhere, " she went onreflectively. "What a lack of initiative. What timidity. What anabsence of originality. If I had nothing else against you, Grant, I'd never forgive you for having been so long blind to my charms--you and these other men of our set who'll doubtless be clamorousnow. "

"If you'd been less anxious to please, " suggested he bitterly, "and more courageous about being your own real self, you'd nothave got yourself into this mess. "

"Ah--but that wasn't my fault, " replied she absently. "It was thefault of my training. Ever since I can remember I've been taughtto be on my guard, lest the men shouldn't like me. " In her newfreedom she looked back tranquilly upon the struggle she was atlast emancipated from, and philosophized about it. "What a mistakemothers make in putting worry about getting a husband into theirdaughters' heads. Believe me, Grant, that dread makes wretchedwhat ought to be the happiest time of a girl's life. "

"Rita, " he pleaded, "stop this nonsense, and say you'll marry me. "

"No, thanks, " said she. "I've chosen. And I'm well content. "

She gave him a last tantalizing look and went out on the veranda, to go along it to the outdoor stairway. Arkwright gazed after herthrough a fierce conflict of emotions. Was she really in earnest?Could it be possible that Josh Craig had somehow got a hold overher? "Or, is it that she doesn't trust me, thinks I'd back down ifshe were to throw him over and rely on me?" No, there wassomething positively for Craig in her tone and expression. She wasreally intending to marry him. Grant shuddered. "If she onlyrealized what marrying a man of that sort means!" he exclaimed, half aloud. "But she doesn't. Only a woman who has been marriedcan appreciate what sort of a hell for sensitive nerves andrefined tastes marriage can be made. "

"Ah--Mr. Arkwright!"

At this interruption in a woman's voice--the voice he disliked anddreaded above all others--he startled and turned to face old MadamBowker in rustling black silk, with haughty casque of gray-whitehair and ebon staff carried firmly, well forward. Grant bowed. "How d'ye do, Mrs. Bowker?" said he with respectful deference. What he would have thought was the impossible had come to pass. Hewas glad to see her. "She'll put an end to this nonsense--thisnightmare, " said he to himself. 

Madam Bowker had Williams, the butler, and a maid-servant in hertrain. She halted, gazed round the room; she pointed with thestaff to the floor a few feet from the window and a little back. "Place my chair there, " commanded she. 

The butler and the maid hastened to move a large carved and gildedchair to the indicated spot. Madam Bowker seated herself with muchceremony. 

"Now!" said she. "We will rearrange the room. Bring that sofa fromthe far corner to the other side of this window, and put the tea-table in front of it. Put two chairs where the sofa was; arrangethe other chairs--" And she indicated the places with her staff. 

While the room was still in confusion Mrs. Severence entered. "What is it, Mamma?" she asked. 

"Simply trying to make this frightful room a little lessfrightful. "

"Don't you think the pictures should be rehung to suit the newarrangement, ma'am?" suggested Arkwright. 

Madam Bowker, suspicious of jest, looked sharply at him. He seemedserious. "You are right, " said she. 

"But people will be coming in a few minutes, " pleaded Roxana. 

"Then to-morrow, " said Madam Bowker reluctantly. "That will do, Williams--that will do, Betty. And, Betty, you must go at once andmake yourself neat. You've had on that cap two days. "

"No, indeed, ma'am!" protested Betty. 

"Then it was badly done up. Roxana, how can you bear to live insuch a slovenly way?"

"Will you have tea now, Mamma?" was Roxana's diplomatic reply. 

"Yes, " answered the old lady. 

"Tea, Mr. Arkwright?"

"Thanks, no, Mrs. Severence. I'm just going. I merely looked into--to congratulate Rita. "

Madam Bowker clutched her staff. "To congratulate mygranddaughter? Upon what, pray?"

Arkwright simulated a look of surprise. "Upon her engagement. "

"Her WHAT?" demanded the old lady, while Roxana sat holding a lumpof sugar suspended between bowl and cup. 

"Her engagement to Josh Craig. "

"No such thing!" declared the old lady instantly. "Really, sir, itis disgraceful that MY granddaughter's name should be associatedin ANY connection with such a person. "

Here Margaret entered the room by the French windows by which shehad left. She advanced slowly and gracefully, amid a profoundsilence. Just as she reached the tea-table her grandmother said ina terrible voice: "Margaret!"

"Yes, Grandmother, " responded Margaret smoothly, without lookingat her. 

"Mr. Arkwright here has brought in a scandalous story about yourbeing engaged to that--that Josh person--the clerk in one of thedepartments. Do you know him?"

"Yes, Grandma. But not very well. "

Madam Bowker glanced triumphantly at Arkwright; he was gazingamazedly at Margaret. 

"You see, Grant, " said Roxana, with her foolish, pleasant laugh, "there is nothing in it. "

"In what?" asked Margaret innocently, emptying the hot water fromher cup. 

"In the story of your engagement, dear, " said her mother. 

"Oh, yes, there is, " replied Margaret with a smiling lift of herbrows. "It's quite true. " Then, suddenly drawing herself up, shewheeled on Grant with a frown as terrible as her grandmother'sown. "Be off!" she said imperiously. 

Arkwright literally shrank from the room. As he reached the doorhe saw her shiver and heard her mutter, "Reptile!"

CHAPTER XI

MADAM BOWKER HEARS THE NEWS

In the midst of profound hush Madam Bowker was charging her heavyartillery, to train it upon and demolish the engagement certainly, and probably Margaret, too. Just as she was about to open firecallers were ushered in. As luck had it they were the threeStillwater girls, hastily made-over Westerners, dressed with greatshow of fashion in what purported to be imported French hats andgowns. An expert eye, however, would instantly have pierced thesecret of this formidable array of plumes and furbelows. TheStillwaters fancied they had exquisite taste and real genius inthe art of dress. Those hats were made at home, were adaptationsof the imported hats--adaptations of the kind that "see" theoriginal and "go it a few better. " As for the dresses, theStillwaters had found one of those treasures dear to a certainkind of woman, had found a "woman just round the corner, and notestablished yet"--"I assure you, my dear, she takes a mentalpicture of the most difficult dress to copy, and you'd never knowhers from the original--and SO reasonable!"

In advance came Molly Stillwater, the youngest and prettiest andthe most aggressively dressed because her position as familybeauty made it incumbent upon her to lead the way in fashion. Assoon as the greetings were over--cold, indeed, from Madam Bowker, hysterical from Roxana--Molly gushed out: "Just as we left home, Josh Craig came tearing in. If possible, madder than a hatter--yes--really--" Molly was still too young to have learned tocontrol the mechanism of her mouth; thus, her confused syntaxseemed the result of the alarming and fascinating contortions ofher lips and tongue--"and, when we told him where we were going heshouted out, 'Give Rita my love. '"

Margaret penetrated to the purpose to anger her against Craig. Wasnot Craig intended by Mrs. Stillwater for Jessie, the eldest andonly serious one of the three? And was not his conduct, hishanging about Margaret and his shying off from Jessie, thoroughlyup on public questions and competent to discuss them with anybody--was not his conduct most menacing to her plans? Mrs. Stillwater, arranging for matrimony for all her daughters, had decided thatJess was hopeless except as a "serious woman, " since she hadneither figure nor face, nor even abundant hair, which alone isenough to entangle some men. So, Jess had been set to work atpolitical economy, finance, at studying up the politicalsituations; and, if started right and not interfered with, shecould give as good account of her teaching as any phonograph. 

Margaret welcomed Molly's message from Craig with a sweet smile. An amused glance at the thunderous face of her grandmother, andshe said, "Perhaps it would interest you, dear, to know that heand I are engaged. "

What could Madam Bowker say? What could she do? Obviously, nothing. The three Stillwaters became hysterical. Their commentsand congratulations were scraps of disjointed nonsense, and theygot away under cover of more arrivals, in as great disorder as ifthe heavy guns Madam Bowker had stacked to the brim for Margarethad accidentally discharged into them. Madam Bowker could wait nolonger. "Margaret, " said she, "help me to my carriage. "

Mrs. Severence gave her difficult daughter an appealing glance, asif she feared the girl would cap the climax of rebellion by flatlyrefusing; but Margaret said sweetly:

"Yes, Grandma. "

The two left the room, the old lady leaning heavily on hergranddaughter and wielding her ebony staff as if getting her armlimbered to use it. In the hall, she said fiercely, "To yourroom, " and waved her staff toward the stairway. 

Margaret hesitated, shrugged her shoulders. She preceding, andMadam Bowker ascending statelily afterward, they went up and werepresently alone in Margaret's pretty rose and gold boudoir, withthe outer door closed. 

"Now!" exclaimed Madam Bowker. 

"Not so loud, please, " suggested the tranquil Margaret, "unlessyou wish Selina to hear. " She pointed to the door ajar. "She'ssewing in there. "

"Send the woman away, " commanded the old lady. 

But Margaret merely closed the door. "Well, Grandmother?"

"Sit at this desk, " ordered the old lady, pointing with the ebonystaff, "and write a note to that man Craig, breaking theengagement. Say you have thought it over and have decided it isquite impossible. And to-morrow morning you go to New York withme. "

Margaret seated herself on the lounge instead. "I'll do neither, "said she. 

The old lady waved the end of her staff in a gesture of loftydisdain. "As you please. But, if you do not, your allowance iswithdrawn. "

"Certainly, " said Margaret. "I assumed that. "

Madam Bowker gazed at her with eyes like tongues of flame. "Andhow do you expect to live?" she inquired. 

"That is OUR affair, " replied the girl. "You say you are done withme. Well, so am I done with you. "

It was, as Margaret had said, because she was not afraid of hergrandmother that that formidable old lady respected her; and asshe was one of those who can give affection only where they giverespect, she loved Margaret--loved her with jealous and carpingtenacity. The girl's words of finality made her erect andunyielding soul shiver in a sudden dreary blast of loneliness, that most tragic of all the storms that sweep the ways of life. Itwas in the tone of the anger of love with the beloved that shecried, "How DARE you engage yourself to such a person!"

"You served notice on me that I must marry, " replied the girl, herown tone much modified. "He was the chance that offered. "

"The chance!" Madam Bowker smiled with caustic scorn, "He's not achance. "

"You ordered me to marry. I am marrying. And you are violatingyour promise. But I expected it. "

"My promise? What do you mean?"

"You told me if I'd marry you'd continue my allowance aftermarriage. You even hinted you'd increase it. "

"But this is no marriage. I should consider a connection betweensuch a man and a Severence as a mere vulgar intrigue. You might aswell run away with a coachman. I have known few coachmen so ill-bred--so repellent--as this Craig. "

Margaret laughed cheerfully. "He isn't what you'd call polished, is he?"

Her grandmother studied her keenly. "Margaret, " she finally said, "this is some scheme of yours. You are using this engagement tohelp you to something else. "

"I refused Grant Arkwright just before you came. "

"You--refused--Arkwright?"

"My original plan was to trap Grant by making him jealous ofCraig. But I abandoned it. "

"And why?"

"A remnant of decency. "

"I doubt it, " said the old lady. 

"So should I in the circumstances. We're a pretty queer lot, aren't we? You, for instance--on the verge of the grave, andbreaking your promise to me as if a promise were nothing. "

Mrs. Bowker's ebon staff twitched convulsively and her terribleeyes were like the vent-holes of internal fires; but she managedher rage with a skill that was high tribute to her will-power. "You are right in selecting this clown--this tag-rag, " said she. "You and he, I see, are peculiarly suited to each other. .. . My onlyregret is that in my blind affection I have wasted all these yearsand all those thousands of dollars on you. " Madam Bowker affectedpublicly a fine scorn of money and all that thereto appertained;but privately she was a true aristocrat in her reverence andconsideration for that which is the bone and blood of aristocracy. 

"Nothing so stupid and silly as regret, " said Margaret, withplacid philosophy of manner. "I, too, could think of things Iregret. But I'm putting my whole mind on the future. "

"Future!" Madam Bowker laughed. "Why, my child, you have nofuture. Within two years you'll either be disgracefully divorced, or the wife of a little lawyer in a little Western town. "

"But I'll have my husband and my children. What more can a womanask?"

The old lady scrutinized her granddaughter's tranquil, delicateface in utter amazement. She could find nothing on which to base ahope that the girl was either jesting or posing. "Margaret, " shecried, "are you CRAZY?"

"Do you think a desire for a home, and a husband who adores one, and children whom one adores is evidence of insanity?"

"Yes, you are mad--quite mad!"

"I suppose you think that fretting about all my seasons without anoffer worth accepting has driven me out of my senses. Sometimes Ithink so, too. " And Margaret lapsed into abstracted, dreamysilence. 

"Do you pretend that you--you--care for--this person?" inquiredthe old lady. 

"I can't discuss him with you, Grandmother, " replied the girl. "You know you have washed your hands of me. "

"I shall never give up, " cried the old lady vehemently, "until Irescue you. I'll not permit this disgrace. I'll have him drivenout of Washington. "

"Yes, you might try that, " said Margaret. "I don't want him tostay here. I am sick--sick to death--of all this. I loatheeverything I ever liked. It almost seems to me I'd prefer livingin a cabin in the back-woods. I've just wakened to what it reallymeans--no love, no friendship, only pretense and show, rivalry insilly extravagance, aimless running to and fro among people thatcare nothing for one, and that one cares nothing for. If you couldsee it as I see it you'd understand. "

But Madam Bowker had thought all her life in terms of fashion andsociety. She was not in the least impressed. "Balderdash!" saidshe with a jab at the floor with the ebony staff. "Don't posebefore me. You know very well you're marrying this man because youbelieve he will amount to a great deal. "

Margaret beamed upon her grandmother triumphantly, as if she hadstepped into a trap that had been set for her. "And your onlyreason for being angry, " cried she, "is that you don't believe hewill. "

"I know he won't. He can't. Stillwater has kept him solely becausethat unspeakable wife of his hopes to foist their dull, uglyeldest girl on him. "

"You think a man as shrewd as Stillwater would marry his daughterto a nobody?"

"It's useless for you to argue, Margaret, " snapped the old lady. "The man's impossible--for a Severence. I shall stop theengagement. "

"You can't, " rejoined Margaret calmly. "My mind is made up. Andalong with several other qualities, Grandmother, dear, I'veinherited your will. "

"Will without wit--is there anything worse? But I know you are notserious. It is merely a mood--the result of a profounddiscouragement. My dear child, let me assure you it is no unusualthing for a girl of your position, yet without money, to have nooffers at all. You should not believe the silly lies yourgirlfriends tell about having bushels of offers. No girl hasbushels of offers unless she makes herself common and familiarwith all kinds of men--and takes their loose talk seriously. Mostmen wouldn't dare offer themselves to you. The impudence of thisCraig! You should have ordered him out of your presence. "

Margaret, remembering how Craig had seized her, smiled. 

"I admit I have been inconsiderate in urging you so vigorously, "continued her grandmother. "I thought I had observed a tendency tofritter. I wished you to stop trifling with Grant Arkwright--or, rather, to stop his trifling with you. Come, now, my dear, let meput an end to this engagement. And you will marry Grant, and yourfuture will be bright and assured. "

Margaret shook her head. "I have promised, " said she, and herexpression would have thrilled Lucia. 

Madam Bowker was singularly patient with this evidence ofsentimentalism. "That's fine and noble of you. But you didn'trealize what a grave step you were taking, and you--"

"Yes, but I did. If ever anything was deliberate on a woman'spart, that engagement was. " A bright spot burned in each of thegirl's cheeks. "He didn't really propose. I pretended tomisunderstand him. "

Her grandmother stared. 

"You needn't look at me like that, " exclaimed Margaret. "You knowvery well that Grandfather Bowker never would have married you ifyou hadn't fairly compelled him. I heard him tease you about itonce when I was a little girl. "

It was Madam Bowker's turn to redden. She deigned to smile. "Menare so foolish, " observed she, "that women often have to guidethem. There would be few marriages of the right sort if the menwere not managed. "

Margaret nodded assent. "I realize that now, " said she. Earnestly:"Grandmother, try to make the best of this engagement of mine. When a woman, a woman as experienced and sensible as I am, makesup her mind a certain man is the man for her, is it wise tointerfere?"

Madam Bowker, struck by the searching wisdom of this remark, wassilenced for the moment. In the interval of thought she reflectedthat she would do well to take counsel of herself alone inproceeding to break this engagement. "You are on the verge ofmaking a terrible misstep, child, " said she with a gentleness shehad rarely shown even to her favorite grandchild. "I shall thinkit over, and you will think it over. At least, promise me you willnot see Craig for a few days. "

Margaret hesitated. Her grandmother, partly by this unusualgentleness, partly by inducing the calmer reflection of the secondthought, had shaken her purpose more than she would have believedpossible. "If I've made a mistake, " said she, "isn't seeing himthe best way to realize it?"

"Yes, " instantly and emphatically admitted the acute old lady. "See him, by all means. See as much of him as possible. And in afew days you will be laughing at yourself--and very much ashamed. "

"I wonder, " said Margaret aloud, but chiefly to herself. 

And Madam Bowker, seeing the doubt in her face, only a faintreflection of the doubt that must be within, went away content. 

CHAPTER XII

PUTTING DOWN A MUTINY

Margaret made it an all but inflexible rule not to go out, but torest and repair one evening in each week; that was the evening, under the rule, but she would have broken the rule had anyopportunity offered. Of course, for the first time since theseason began, no one sent or telephoned to ask her to fill in atthe last moment. She half-expected Craig, though she knew he wasto be busy; he neither came nor called up. She dined moodily withthe family, sat surlily in a corner of the veranda until teno'clock, hid herself in bed. She feared she would have a sleeplessnight. But she had eaten no dinner; and, as indigestion is aboutthe only thing that will keep a healthy human being awake, sheslept dreamlessly, soundly, not waking until Selina slowly andsoftly opened the inner blinds of her bedroom at eight the nextmorning. 

There are people who are wholly indifferent about theirsurroundings, and lead the life dictated by civilized custom onlybecause they are slaves of custom, Margaret was not one of these. She not only adopted all the comforts and luxuries that werecurrent, she also spent much tune in thinking out new luxuries, new refinements upon those she already had. She was through, andthrough the luxurious idler; she made of idling a career--pursuedit with intelligent purpose where others simply drifted, yawningwhen pastimes were not provided for them. She was as industriousand ingenious at her career as a Craig at furthering himself andhis ideas in a public career. 

Like the others of her class she left the care of her mind tochance. As she had a naturally good mind and a bird-like instinctfor flitting everywhere, picking out the food from the chaff, shemade an excellent showing even in the company of serious people. But that was accident. Her person was her real care. To herluxurious, sensuous nature every kind of pleasurable physicalsensation made keen appeal, and she strove in every way to make itkeener. She took the greatest care of her health, because healthmeant beauty and every nerve and organ in condition to enjoy toits uttermost capacity. 

Because of this care it was often full three hours and halfbetween the entrance of Selina and her own exit, dressed and readyfor the day. And those three hours and a half were the happiest ofher day usually, because they were full of those physicalsensations in which she most delighted. Her first move, afterSelina had awakened her, was to spend half an hour in "getting theyawns out. " She had learned this interesting, pleasant and amusingtrick from a baby in a house where she had once spent a week. Shewould extend herself at full length in the bed, and then slowlystretch each separate muscle of arm and leg, of foot and hand, ofneck and shoulders and waist. This stretching process wasaccompanied by a series of prolonged, profound, luxurious yawns. 

The yawning exercise completed, she rose and took before a longmirror a series of other exercises, some to strengthen her waist, others to keep her back straight and supple, others to make firmthe contour of her face and throat. A half-hour of this, then cameher bath. This was no hurried plunge, drying and away, but a longand elaborate function at which Selina assisted. There had to bewater of three temperatures; a dozen different kinds of brushes, soaps, towels and other apparatus participated. When it wasfinished Margaret's skin glowed and shone, was soft and smooth andexhaled a delicious odor of lilacs. During the exercises Selinahad been getting ready the clothes for the day--everything freshthroughout, and everything delicately redolent of the same essenceof lilacs with which Selina had rubbed her from hair to tips offingers and feet. The clothes were put on slowly, for Margaretdelighted in the feeling of soft silks and laces being drawn overher skin. She let Selina do every possible bit of work, and gaveherself up wholly to the joy of being cared for. 

"There isn't any real reason why I shouldn't be doing this foryou, instead of your doing it for me--is there, Selina?" mused shealoud. 

"Goodness gracious, Miss Rita!" exclaimed Selina, horrified. "Iwouldn't have it done for anything. I was brought up to beretiring about dressing. It was my mother's dying boast that noman, nor no woman, had ever seen her, a grown woman, except fullydressed. "

"Really?" said Margaret absently. She stood up, surveyed herselfin the triple mirror--back, front, sides. "So many women neverlook at themselves in the back, " observed she, "or know how theirskirts hang about the feet. I believe in dressing for all pointsof view. "

"You certainly are just perfect, " said the adoring Selina, not theleast part of her admiring satisfaction due to the fact that thetoilette was largely the creation of her own hands. "And you smelllike a real lady--not noisy, like some that comes here. I hate totouch their wraps or to lay 'em down in the house. But you--It'sone of them smells that you ain't sure whether you smelt it ordreamed it. "

"Pretty good, Selina!" said Margaret. She could not but be pleasedwith such a compliment, one that could have been suggested only bythe truth. "The hair went up well this morning, didn't it?"

"Lovely--especially in the back. It looks as if it had beenmarcelled, without that common, barbery stiffness-like. "

"Yes, the back is good. And I like this blouse. I must wear itoftener. "

"You can't afford to favor it too much, Miss Rita. You know you'vegot over thirty, all of them beauties. "

"Some day, when I get time, we must look through my clothes. Iwant to give you a lot of them. . .. What DOES become of the time?Here it is, nearly eleven. See if breakfast has come up. I'llfinish dressing afterward if it has. "

It had. It was upon a small table in the rose and gold boudoir. And the sun, shining softly in at the creeper-shaded window, rejoiced in the surpassing brightness and cleanness of the dishesof silver and thinnest porcelain and cut glass. Margaret thoughteating in bed a "filthy, foreign fad, " and never indulged in it. She seated herself lazily, drank her coffee, and ate her roll andher egg slowly, deliberately, reading her letters and glancing atthe paper. A charming picture she made--the soft, whiteValenciennes of her matinee falling away from her throat andsetting off the clean, smooth healthiness of her skin, theblackness of her vital hair; from the white lace of herpetticoat's plaited flounces peered one of her slim feet, a satinslipper upon the end of it. At the top of the heap of letters layone she would have recognized, she thought, had she never seen thehandwriting before. 

"Sure to be upsetting, " reflected she; and she laid it aside, glancing now and then at the bold, nervous, irregular hand andspeculating about the contents and about the writer. 

She had gone to bed greatly disturbed in mind as to whether shewas doing well to marry the obstreperous Westerner. "He fascinatesme in a wild, weird sort of a way when I'm with him, " she had saidto herself before going to sleep, "and the idea of him isfascinating in certain moods. And it is a temptation to take holdof him and master and train him--like broncho-busting. But is itinteresting enough for--for marriage? Wouldn't I get horriblytired? Wouldn't Grant and humdrum be better? less wearying? "Andwhen she awakened she found her problem all but solved. " I'll sendhim packing and take Grant, " she found herself saying, "unlesssome excellent reason for doing otherwise appears. Grandmother wasright. Engaging myself to him was a mood. " Once more she was allfor luxury and ease and calmness, for the pleasant, soothing, cut-and-dried thing. "A cold bath or a rough rub-down now and then, once in a long while, is all very well. It makes one appreciatecomfort and luxury more. But that sort of thing every day--manytimes each day--" Margaret felt her nerves rebelling as at thestroking of velvet the wrong way. 

She read all her other letters, finished her toilette, had on herhat, and was having Selina put on her boots when she openedCraig's letter and read:

"I must have been out of my mind this afternoon. You are wildlyfascinating, but you are not for me. If I led you to believe thatI wished to marry you, pray forget it. We should make each otherunhappy and, worse still, uncomfortable. 

"Do I make myself clear? We are not engaged. I hope you will marryArkwright; a fine fellow, in every way suited to you, and, Ihappen to know, madly in love with you. Please try to forgive me. If you have any feeling for me stronger than friendship you willsurely get over it. 

"Anyhow, we couldn't marry. That is settled. 

"Let me have an answer to this. I shall be upset until I hear. " Nobeginning. No end. Just a bald, brutal casting-off. A hint--morethan a hint--of a fear that she would try to hold him in spite ofhimself. She smiled--small, even teeth clenched and eyelidscontracted cruelly--as she read a second time, with thisunflattering suggestion obtruding. The humiliation of beingjilted! And by such a man!--the private shame--the publicdisgrace--She sprang up, crunching her foot hard down upon one ofSelina's hands. "What is it?" said she angrily, at her maid's cryof pain. 

"Nothing, Miss, " replied Selina, quickly hiding the wounded hand. "You moved so quick I hadn't time to draw away. That was all. "

"Then finish that boot!"

Selina had to expose the hand, Margaret looked down at itindifferently, though her heel had torn the skin away from theedge of the palm and had cut into the flesh. 

"Hurry!" she ordered fiercely, as Selina fumbled and bungled. 

She twitched and frowned with impatience while Selina finishedbuttoning the boot, then descended and called Williams. "Get meMr. Craig on the telephone, " she said. 

"He's been calling you up several times to-day, ma'am, --"

"Ah!" exclaimed Margaret, eyes flashing with sudden delight. 

"But we wouldn't disturb you. "

"That was right, " said Margaret. She was beaming now, was allsunny good humor. Even her black hair seemed to glisten in hersimile. So! He had been calling up! Poor fool, not to realize thatshe would draw the correct inference from this anxiety. 

"Shall I call him?" "No. I'll wait. Probably he'll call againsoon. I'll be in the library. "

She had not been roaming restlessly about there many minutesbefore Williams appeared "He's come, himself, ma'am, " said he. "Itold him I didn't know whether you'd be able to see him or not. "

"Thank you, Williams, " said Margaret sweetly. "Order the carriageto come round at once. Leave Mr. Craig in the drawing-room. I'llspeak to him on the way out. "

She dashed upstairs. "Selina! Selina!" she called. And when Selinacame: "Let me see that hand. I hurt you because I got news thatwent through me like a knife. You understand, don't you?"

"It was nothing, Miss Rita, " protested Selina. "I'd forgot itmyself already. "

But Margaret insisted on assuring herself with her own eyes, gotblood on her white gloves, had to change them. As she descendedshe was putting on the fresh pair--a new pair. How vastly morethan even the normal is a man's disadvantage in a "serious"interview with a woman if she is putting on new gloves! She isperfectly free to seem occupied or not, as suits her convenience;and she can, by wrestling with the gloves, interrupt him withoutspeech, distract his attention, fiddle his thoughts, give him asense of imbecile futility, and all the time offer him no causefor resentment against her. He himself seems in the wrong; she ismerely putting On her gloves. 

She was wrong in her guess that Arkwright had been at him. He hadsimply succumbed to his own fears and forebodings, gathered inforce as soon as he was not protected from them by the spell ofher presence. The mystery of the feminine is bred into men fromearliest infancy, is intensified when passion comes and excitesthe imagination into fantastic activity about women. No man, notthe most experienced, not the most depraved, is ever able whollyto divest himself of this awe, except, occasionally, in the caseof some particular woman. Awe makes one ill at ease; the womanwho, by whatever means, is able to cure a man of his awe of her, to make him feel free to be himself, is often able to hold him, even though he despises her or is indifferent to her; on the otherhand, the woman who remains an object of awe to a man is certainto lose him. He may be proud to have her as his wife, as themother of his children, but he will seek some other woman to giveher the place of intimacy in his life. 

At the outset on an acquaintance between a man and a woman his awefor her as the embodiment of the mystery feminine is of greatadvantage to her; it often gets him for her as a husband. In thisparticular case of Margaret Severence and Joshua Craig, while hisawe of her was an advantage, it was also a disadvantage. Itattracted him; it perilously repelled him. He liked to release hisrobust imagination upon those charms of hers--those delicate, refined beauties that filled him with longings, delicious in theirintensity, longings as primeval in kind as well as in force asthose that set delirious the savage hordes from the German forestswhen they first poured down over the Alps and beheld the jewelsand marbles and round, smooth, soft women of Italy's ancientcivilization. But at the same time he had the unmistakable, theterrifying feeling of dare-devil sacrilege. What were his coarsehands doing, dabbling in silks and cobweb laces and embroideries?Silk fascinated him; but, while he did not like calico so well, hefelt at home with it. Yes, he had seized her, had crushed hermadly in the embrace of his plowman arms. But that seemed now afreak of courage, a drunken man's deed, wholly beyond the nerve ofsobriety. 

Then, on top of all this awe was his reverence for her as anaristocrat, a representative of people who had for generationsbeen far removed above the coarse realities of the only life heknew. And it was this adoration of caste that determined him. Hemight overcome his awe of her person and dress, of her tangibletrappings; but how could he ever hope to bridge the gulf betweenhimself and her intangible superiorities? He was ashamed ofhimself, enraged against himself for this feeling of worm gazingup at star. It made a mockery of all his arrogant, noisyprotestations of equality and democracy. 

"The fault is not in my ideas, " thought he; "THEY'RE all right. The fault's in me--damned snob that I am!"

Clearly, if he was to be what he wished, if he was to become whathe had thought he was, he must get away from this sinisterinfluence, from this temptation that had made him, at first onset, not merely stumble, but fall flat and begin to grovel. "She is asuperior woman--that is no snob notion of mine, " reflected he. "But from the way I falter and get weak in the knees, she ought tobe superhuman--which she isn't, by any means. No, there's only onething to do--keep away from her. Besides, I'd feel miserable withher about as my wife. " My wife! The very words threw him into acold sweat. 

So the note was written, was feverishly dispatched. 

No sooner was it sent than it was repented. "What's the matterwith me?" demanded he of himself, as his courage came swaggeringback, once the danger had been banished. "Why, the best is not toogood for me. She is the best, and mighty proud she ought to be ofa man who, by sheer force of character, has lifted himself towhere I am and who, is going to be what I shall be. Mighty proud!There are only two realities--money and brains. I've certainly gotmore brains than she or any of her set; as for money, she hasn'tgot that. The superiority is all on my side. I'm the one thatought to feel condescending. "

What had he said in his note? Recalling it as well as he could--for it was one, the last, of more than a dozen notes he hadwritten in two hours of that evening--recalling phrases he waspretty sure he had put into the one he had finally sent, indespair of a better, it seemed to him he had given her a whollyfalse impression--an impression of her superiority and of hisfear and awe. That would never do. He must set her right, mustshow her he was breaking the engagement only because she was notup to his standard. Besides, he wished to see her again to makesure he had been victimized into an engagement by a purelyphysical, swiftly-evanescent imagining. Yes, he must see her, musthave a look at her, must have a talk with her. 

"It's the only decent, courageous thing to do in thecircumstances. Sending that note looked like cowardice--would becowardice if I didn't follow it up with a visit. And whatever elseI am, surely I'm not a coward!"

Margaret had indulged in no masculine ingenuities of logic. Woman-like, she had gone straight to the practical point: Craig hadwritten instead of coming--he was, therefore, afraid of her. Having written he had not fled, but had come--he was, therefore, attracted by her still. Obviously the game lay in her own hands, for what more could woman ask than that a man be both afraid andattracted? A little management and she not only would save herselffrom the threatened humiliation of being jilted--jilted by anuncouth nobody of a Josh Craig!--but also would have him indurance, to punish his presumption at her own good pleasure as totime and manner. If Joshua Craig, hardy plodder in the arduouspathway from plowboy to President, could have seen what was in themind so delicately and so aristocratically entempled in thatgraceful, slender, ultra-feminine body of Margaret Severence's, asshe descended the stairs, putting fresh gloves upon her beautiful, idle hands, he would have borrowed wings of the wind and wouldhave fled as from a gorgon. 

But as she entered the room nothing could have seemed lessformidable except to the heart. Her spring dress--she was wearingit for the first time--was of a pale green, suggesting thedraperies of islands of enchantment. Its lines coincided with thelines of her figure. Her hat, trimmed to match, formed a magichalo for her hair; and it, in turn, was the entrancing frame inwhich her small, quiet, pallid face was set--that delicate, sensitive face, from which shone, now softly and now brilliantly, those hazel eyes a painter could have borrowed for a wood nymph. In the doorway, before greeting him, she paused. 

"Williams, " she called, and Craig was thrilled by her "high-bred"accent, that seemed to him to make of the English language amedium different from the one he used and heard out home. 

"Yes, ma'am, " came the answer in the subtly-deferential tone ofthe aristocracy of menialdom, conjuring for Craig, with the aid ofthe woman herself and that aristocratic old room, a completepicture of the life of upper-class splendor. 

"Did you order the carriage, as I asked?"

"Yes, ma'am; it's at the door. "

"Thank you. " And Margaret turned upon an overwhelmed and dazzledCraig. He did not dream that she had calculated it all with a viewto impressing him--and, if he had, the effect would hardly havebeen lessened. Whether planned or not, were not toilette andaccent, and butler and carriage, all realities? Nor did he suspectshrewd calculations upon snobbishness when she said: "I was insuch haste to dress that I hurt my poor maid's hand as she waslacing my boot"--she thrust out one slender, elegantly-clad foot--"no, buttoning it, I mean. " Oh, these ladies, these ladies of thenew world--and the old--that are so used to maids and carriagesand being waited upon that they no more think of display inconnection with them than one would think of boasting two legs ortwo eyes!

The advantage from being in the act of putting on gloves began atthe very outset. It helped to save her from deciding a mode ofsalutation. She did not salute him at all. It made the meeting acontinuation, without break, of their previous meeting. 

"How do you like my new dress?" she asked, as she drew the longpart of her glove up her round, white arm. 

"Beautiful, " he stammered. 

From the hazel eyes shot a shy-bold glance straight into his; itwas as if those slim, taper fingers of hers had twanged thestrings of the lyre of his nerves. "You despise all this sort oftrumpery, don't you?"

"Sometimes a man says things he don't mean, " he found tongue toutter. 

"I understand, " said she sympathetically, and he knew she meanthis note. But he was too overwhelmed by his surroundings, by herenvelope of aristocracy, too fascinated by her physical charm, tooflattered by being on such terms with such a personage, to ventureto set her right. Also, she gave him little chance; for in almostthe same breath she went on: "I've been in such moods!--sinceyesterday afternoon--like the devils in Milton, isn't it?--thatare swept from lands of ice to lands of fire?--or is it in Dante?I never can remember. We must go straight off, for I'm late. Youcan come, too--it's only a little meeting about some charity orother. All rich people, of course--except poor me. I'm sure Idon't know why they asked me. I can give little besides advice. How handsome you are to-day, Joshua!"

It was the first time she had called him by his first name. Sherepeated it--"Joshua--Joshua"--as when one hits upon someparticularly sweet and penetrating chord at the piano, and strikesit again, and yet again. 

They were in the carriage, being whirled toward the great palaceof Mrs. Whitson, the latest and grandest of plutocratic monumentsthat have arisen upon the ruins of the old, old-fashioned AmericanWashington. And she talked incessantly--a limpid, sparkling, joyous strain. And either her hand sought his or his hers; at anyrate, he found himself holding her hand. They were almost therebefore he contrived to say, very falteringly: "You got my note?"

She laughed gayly. "Oh, yes--and your own answer to it, Joshua--mylove"--the "my love" in a much lower, softer tone, with suggestionof sudden tears trembling to fall. 

"But I meant it, " he said, though in tones little like any he wasused to hearing from his own lips. But he would not dare lookhimself in the face again if he did not make at least a wrigglebefore surrendering. 

"We mean many things in as many moods, " said she. "I knew it wasonly a mood. I knew you'd come. I've such a sense of implicitreliance on you. You are to me like the burr that shields the nutfrom all harm. How secure and cozy and happy the nut must feel inits burr. As I've walked through the woods in the autumn I'veoften thought of that, and how, if I ever married--"

A wild impulse to seize her and crush her, as one crushes the ripeberry for its perfume and taste, flared in his eyes. She drew awayto check it. "Not now, " she murmured, and her quick breath andflush were not art, but nature. "Not just now--Joshua. "

"You make me--insane, " he muttered between his teeth. "God!--I DOlove you!"

They were arrived; were descending. And she led him, abject and inchains, into the presence of Mrs. Whitson and the most fashionableof the fashionable set. "So you've brought him along?" cried Mrs. Whitson. "Well, I congratulate you, Mr. Craig. It's very evidentyou have a shrewd eye for the prizes of life, and a strong, longreach to grasp them. "

Craig, red and awkward, laughed hysterically, flung out a fewmeaningless phrases. Margaret murmured: "Perhaps you'd rather go?"She wished him to go, now that she had exhibited him. 

"Yes--for Heaven's sake!" he exclaimed. He was clutching for hisbraggart pretense of ease in "high society" like a drowning manscooping armsful of elusive water. 

She steered her captive in her quiet, easeful manner toward thedoor, sent him forth with a farewell glance and an affectionateinterrogative, "This afternoon, at half-past four?" that could notbe disobeyed. 

The mutiny was quelled. The mutineer was in irons. She had toldhim she felt quite sure about him; and it was true, in a senserather different from what the words had conveyed to him. But itwas of the kind of security that takes care to keep the eyewakeful and the powder dry. She felt she did not have him yetwhere she could trust him out of her sight and could herselfdecide whether the engagement was to be kept or broken. 

"Why, my dear, " said Mrs. Whitson, "he positively feeds out ofyour hand! And such a wild man he seemed!"

Margaret, in the highest of high spirits, laughed with pleasure. 

"A good many, " pursued Mrs. Whitson, "think you are throwingyourself away for love. But as I size men up--and my husband saysI'm a wonder at it--I think he'll be biggest figure of all at oneend of Pennsylvania Avenue or the other. Perhaps, first one end, then at the other. "

"I'm glad to hear you say that, " cried Margaret, with the keenenthusiasm with which, in time of doubt, we welcome an ally to ourown private judgment. "But, " she hastened to add, with veiled eyeand slightly tremulous lip, "I'm ready to take whatever comes. "

"That's right! That's right!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitson, a tender anddreamy sentimentalist except in her own affairs. "Love is best!"

"Love is best, " echoed Margaret. 

CHAPTER XIII

A MEMORABLE MEETING

In that administration the man "next" the President was hisSecretary of the Treasury, John Branch, cold and smooth and able, secreting, in his pale-gray soul, an icy passion for power morerelentless than heat ever bred. To speak of him as unscrupulouswould be like attributing moral quality to a reptile. For himprinciple did not exist, except as an eccentricity of somestrangely-constructed men which might be used to keep them down. Life presented itself to him as a series of mathematical problems, as an examination in mathematics. To pass it meant a diploma as asuccess; to fail to pass meant the abysmal disgrace of obscurity. Cheating was permissible, but not to get caught at it. OtherwiseBranch was the most amiable of men; and why should he not havebeen, his digestion being good, his income sufficient, hisdomestic relations admirable, and his reputation for abilitygrowing apace? No one respected him, no one liked him; but everyone admired him as an intellect moving quite unhampered of therestraints of conscience. In person he was rather handsome, theweasel type of his face being well concealed by fat and byjudicious arrangements of mustache and side-whiskers. Byprofession he was a lawyer, and had been most successful asadviser to wholesale thieves on depredations bent or in search ofimmunity for depredations done. It was incomprehensible to him whyhe was unpopular with the masses. It irritated him that they couldnot appreciate his purely abstract point of view on life; itirritated him because his unpopularity with them meant that therewere limits, and very narrow ones, to his ambition. 

It was to John Branch that Madam Bowker applied when she decidedthat Joshua Craig must be driven from Washington. She sent forhim, and he came promptly. He liked to talk to her because she wasone of the few who thoroughly appreciated and sympathized with hisideas of success in life. Also, he respected her as a personage inWashington, and had it in mind to marry his daughter, as soon asshe should be old enough, to one of her grandnephews. 

"Branch, " said the old lady, with an emphatic wave of the ebonystaff, "I want that Craig man sent away from Washington. "

"Josh, the joke?" said Branch with a slow, sneering smile that hadan acidity in it interesting in one so even as he. 

"That's the man. I want you to rid us of him. He has been payingattention to Margaret, and she is encouraging him. "

"Impossible!" declared Branch. "Margaret is a sensible girl andJosh has nothing--never will have anything. "

"A mere politician!" declared Madam Bowker. "Like hundreds ofothers that wink in with each administration and wink out with it. He will not succeed even at his own miserable political game--and, if he did, he would still be poor as poverty. "

"I don't think you need worry about him and Margaret. I repeat, she is sensible--an admirable girl--admirably brought up. She hasdistinction. She has the right instincts. "

Madam Bowker punctuated each of these compliments with a nod ofher haughty head. "But, " said she, "Craig has convinced her thathe will amount to something. "

"Ridiculous!" scoffed Branch, with an airy wave of the hand. Butthere was in his tone a concealment that set the shrewd old ladyfurtively to watching him. 

"What do they think of him among the public men?" inquired she. 

"He's laughed at there as everywhere. "

Her vigilance was rewarded; as Branch said that, malignancehissed, ever so softly, in his suave voice, and the snake peeredfurtively from his calm, cold eyes. Old Madam Bowker had not livedat Washington's great green tables for the gamblers of ambitionall those years without learning the significance of eyes andtone. For one politician to speak thus venomously of another wassure sign that that other was of consequence; for John Branch, avery Machiavelli at self-concealment and usually too egotistic tobe jealous, thus to speak, and that, without being able to concealhis venom--"Can it be possible, " thought the old lady, "that thisCraig is about to be a somebody?" Aloud she said: "He is apreposterous creature. The vilest manners I've seen in threegenerations of Washington life. And what vanity, what assumptions!The first time I met him he lectured me as if I were a schoolgirl--lectured me about the idle, worthless life he said I lead. Idecided not to recognize him next time I saw him. Up he came, andwithout noticing that I did not speak he poured out such insultsthat I was answering him before I realized it. "

"He certainly is a most exasperating person. "

"So Western! The very worst the West ever sent us. I don'tunderstand how he happened to get about among decent people. Oh, Iremember, it was Grant Arkwright who did it. Grant picked him upon one of his shooting trips. "

"He is insufferable, " said Branch. 

"You must see that the President gets rid of him. I want it doneat once. I assure you, John, my alarm is not imaginary. Margaretis very young, has a streak of sentimentality in her. Besides, youknow how weak the strongest women are before a determined assault. If the other sex wasn't brought up to have a purely imaginary fearof them I don't know what would become of the world. "

Branch smiled appreciatively but absently. "The same is true ofmen, " said he. "The few who amount to anything--at least in activelife--base their calculations on the timidity and folly of theirfellows rather than upon their own abilities. About Craig--I'dlike to oblige you, but--well, you see, there is--there arecertain political exigencies--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted the old lady. "I know the relativeimportance of officials. A mere understrapper like Craig is of noimportance. "

"The fact is, " said Branch with great reluctance, "the Presidenthas taken a fancy to Craig. "

Branch said it as if he hardly expected to be believed--and hewasn't. "To be perfectly frank, " he went on, "you know thePresident, how easily alarmed he is. He's afraid Craig may, bysome crazy turn of this crazy game of politics, develop into aPresidential possibility. Of course, it's quite absurd, but--"

"The more reason for getting rid of him. "

"The contrary. The President probably reasons that, if Craig hasany element of danger in him the nearer he keeps him to himselfthe better. Craig, back in the West, would be free to grow. Herethe President can keep him down if necessary. And I think ourfriend Stillwater will succeed in entangling him disastrously insome case sooner or later. " There Branch laughed pleasantly, as atthe finding of the correct solution to a puzzling problem inanalytics or calculus. 

"What a cowardly, shadow-fighting, shadow-dodging set you menare!" commented Madam Bowker. Though she did not show it, as a mancertainly would, her brain was busy with a wholly different phaseof the matter they were discussing. 

"Isn't Stillwater going to retire?" she asked presently. 

Branch startled. "Where did you hear that?" he demanded. 

The old lady smiled. "There are no secrets in Washington, " saidshe. "Who will be his successor?"

Branch's cold face showed annoyance. "You mustn't speak of it, "replied he, "but the President is actually thinking of appointingCraig--in case the vacancy should occur. Of course, I am trying tomake him see the folly of such a proceeding, but--You are right. Men are cowards. That insufferable upstart is actually bullyingthe President into a state of terror. Already he has compelled himto prosecute some of our best friends out in the Western country, and if the Courts weren't with us--" Branch checked himselfabruptly. It was not the first time he had caught himself yieldingto Washington's insidious custom of rank gossip about everythingand everybody; but it was about his worst offense in thatdirection. "I'm getting to be as leaky as Josh Craig is--as heSEEMS to be, " he muttered, so low, however, that not even hersharp ears caught it. 

"So it is to be Attorney-General Craig, " said the old lady, apparently abstracted but in reality catlike in watchfulness, andnoting with secret pleasure Branch's anger at this explicitstatement of the triumph of his hated rival. 

"Isn't it frightful?" said Branch. "What is the country comingto?"

But she had lost interest in the conversation. She rid herself ofBranch as speedily as the circumstances permitted. She wished tobe alone, to revolve the situation slowly from the new viewpointwhich Branch, half-unconsciously and wholly reluctantly, hadopened up. She had lived a long time, had occupied a front benchoverlooking one of the world's chief arenas of action. And, as shehad an acute if narrow mind, she had learned to judgeintelligently and to note those little signs that are, to theintelligent, the essentials, full of significance. She hadconcealed her amazement from Branch, but amazed she was, less athis news of Craig as a personage full of potentiality than at herown failure, through the inexcusable, manlike stupidity ofpersonal pique, to discern the real man behind his mannerisms. "Nowonder he has pushed so far, so fast, " reflected she; for sheappreciated that in a man of action manners should always be acloak behind which his real campaign forms. It must be a fittingcloak, it should be a becoming one; But always a cloak. "He foolseverybody, apparently, " thought she. "The results of his secretwork alarm them; then, along he comes, with his braggart, offensive manners, his childish posings, his peacock vanity, andthey are lulled into false security. They think what he did was anaccident that will not happen again. Why, he fooled even ME!"

That is always, with every human being, the supreme test, necessarily. Usually it means nothing. In this case of CorneliaBowker it meant a great deal; for Cornelia Bowker was not easilyfooled. The few who appear in the arena of ambition with no gameto play, with only sentiment and principle to further, the few whocould easily have fooled her cynical, worldly wisdom could safelybe disregarded. She felt it was the part of good sense to look theyoung man over again, to make sure that the new light upon him wasnot false light. "He may be a mere accident in spite of hisremarkable successes, " thought she. "The same number sometimescomes a dozen times in succession at roulette. " She sent her handyman, secretary, social manager and organizer, mattre d'hotel, companion, scout, gossip, purveyor of comfort, J. WorthingtonWhitesides, to seek out Craig and to bring him before herforthwith. 

As Mr. Whitesides was a tremendous swell, in dress, in manner andin accent, Craig was much impressed when he came into his officein the Department of Justice. Whitesides' manner, the result ofMadam Bowker's personal teaching, was one of his chief assets inmaintaining and extending her social power. It gave the greatestsolemnity and dignity to a summons from her, filled the recipientwith pleasure and with awe, prepared him or her to be dulyimpressed and in a frame of mind suitable to Madam Bowker'spurposes. 

"I come from Madam Bowker, " he explained to Craig, humblyconscious of his own disarray and toiler's unkemptness. "She wouldbe greatly obliged if you will give her a few minutes of yourtime. She begs you to excuse the informality. She has sent me inher carriage, and it will be a great satisfaction to her if youwill accompany me. "

Craig's first impulse of snobbish satisfaction was immediatelyfollowed by misgivings. Perhaps this was not the formal acceptanceof the situation by the terrible old woman as he had, on the spur, fancied. Perhaps she had sent for him to read him the riot act. Then he remembered that he was himself in doubt as to whether hewished to marry the young woman. All his doubts came floodingback, and his terrors--for, in some of its aspects, the idea ofbeing married to this delicate flower of conventionality andgentle breeding was literally a terror to him. If he went he wouldbe still further committing himself; all Washington would soonknow of the journey in the carriage of Madam Bowker, the mostimposing car of state that appeared in the streets of the Capital, a vast, lofty affair, drawn by magnificent horses, the coachmanand footman in costly, quiet livery, high ensconced. 

"No, thanks, " said Josh, in his most bustlingly-bounderish manner. "Tell the old lady I'm up to my neck in work. "

Mr. Whitesides was taken aback, but he was far too polished agentleman to show it. "Perhaps later?" he suggested. 

"I've promised Margaret to go out there later. If I get throughhere in time I'll look in on Mrs. Bowker on the way. But tell hernot to wait at home for me. "

Mr. Whitesides bowed, and was glad when the outer air was blowingoff him the odor of this vulgar incident. "For, " said he tohimself, "there are some manners so bad that they have a distinctbad smell. He is 'the limit!' The little Severence must beinfernally hard-pressed to think of taking him on. Poor child!She's devilish interesting. A really handsome bit, and smart, too--excellent ideas about dress. Yet somehow she's been marooned, overlooked, while far worse have been married well. Strange, thatsort of thing. Somewhat my own case. I ought to have been able toget some girl with a bunch, yet I somehow always just failed toconnect--until I got beyond the marrying age. Devilish lucky forme, too. I'm no end better off. " And Mr. Whitesides, sittingcorrectly upon Madam Bowlder's gray silk cushions, reflectedcomplacently upon his ample salary, his carefully built-up andmost lucrative commissions, his prospects for a "smashing-goodlegacy when her majesty deigns to pass away. "

At four Madam Bowker, angry yet compelled to a certain respect, heard with satisfaction that Craig had come. "Leave me, Whitesides, " said she. "I wish to be quite alone with himthroughout. "

Thus Craig, entering the great, dim drawing-room, with its panelpaintings and its lofty, beautifully-frescoed ceiling, foundhimself alone with her. She was throned upon a large, antique goldchair, ebony scepter in one hand, the other hand white and young-looking and in fine relief against the black silk of her skirt;she bent upon him a keen, gracious look. Her hazel eyes werebright as a bird's; they had the advantage over a bird's that theysaw--saw everything in addition to seeming to see. 

Looking at him she saw a figure whose surfaces were, indeed, notextraordinarily impressive. Craig's frame was good; that wasapparent despite his clothes. He had powerful shoulders, notnarrow, yet neither were they of the broad kind that suggest powerto the inexpert and weakness and a tendency to lung trouble to theexpert. His body was a trifle long for his arms and legs, whichwere thick and strong, like a lion's or a tiger's. He had a finehead, haughtily set; his eyes emphasized the impression ofarrogance and force. He had the leader's beaklike nose, a handsomeform of it, like Alexander's, not like Attila's. The mouth was theorator's--wide, full and flexible of lips, fluent. It wasdistinctly not an aristocratic mouth. It suggested common speechand common tastes--ruddy tastes--tastes for quantity rather thanfor quality. His skin, his flesh were also plainly notaristocratic; they lacked that fineness of grain, that finish ofsurface which are got only by eating the costly, rare, best andbest-prepared food. His hair, a partially disordered mop over-hanging his brow at the middle, gave him fierceness of aspect. Theold lady had more than a suspicion that the ferocity of that lockof hair and somewhat exaggerated forward thrust of the jaw werepose--in part, at least, an effort to look the valiant andrelentless master of men--perhaps concealing a certain amount ofirresolution. Certainly those eyes met hers boldly rather thanfearlessly. 

She extended her hand. He took it, and with an effort gave it thepolitician's squeeze--the squeeze that makes Hiram Hanks and BillButts grin delightedly and say to each other: "B'gosh, he ain'tlost his axe-handle grip yet, by a durn sight, has he?--dog-gonehim!"

Madam Bowker did not wince, though she felt like it. Instead shesmiled--a faint, derisive smile that made Craig coloruncomfortably. 

"You young man, " said she in her cool, high-bred tones, "you wishto marry my granddaughter. "

Craig was never more afraid nor so impressed in his life. Butthere was no upflaming of physical passion here to betray him intoyielding before her as he had before her granddaughter. "I donot, " replied he arrogantly. "Your granddaughter wants to marryme. "

Madam Bowker winced in spite of herself. A very sturdy-appearingspecimen of manhood was this before her; she could understand howher granddaughter might be physically attracted. But that rudeaccent, that common mouth, those uncouth clothes, hand-me-downs ornear it, that cheap look about the collar, about the wrists, aboutthe ankles--

"We are absolutely unsuited to each other--in every way, "continued Craig. "I tell her so. But she won't listen to me. Theonly reason I've come here is to ask you to take a hand at tryingto bring her to her senses. "

The old lady, recovered from her first shock, gazed at himadmiringly. He had completely turned her flank, and by a movementas swift as it was unexpected. If she opposed the engagement hecould hail her as an ally, could compel her to contribute to herown granddaughter's public humiliation. On the other hand, if sheaccepted the engagement he would have her and Margaret and all theproud Severence family in the position of humbly seeking alliancewith him. Admirable! No wonder Branch was jealous and thePresident alarmed. "Your game, " said she pleasantly, "is extremelyunkempt, but effective. I congratulate you. I owe you an apologyfor having misjudged you. "

He gave her a shrewd look. "I know little Latin and less Greek, "said he, "but, 'timeo Danaos dona ferentes. ' And I've got no game. I'm telling you the straight truth, and I want you to help save mefrom Margaret and from myself. I love the girl. I honestly don'twant to make her wretched. I need a sock-darner, a wash-counter, apram-pusher, for a wife, as Grant would say, not a dainty piece oflace embroidery. It would soon be covered with spots and full ofholes from the rough wear I'd give it. "

Madam Bowker laughed heartily. "You are--delicious, " said she. "You state the exact situation. Only I don't think Rita is quiteso fragile as you fancy. Like all persons of common origin, Mr. Craig, you exaggerate human differences. They are not differencesof kind, but of degree. "

Craig quivered and reddened at "common origin, " as Madam Bowkerexpected and hoped. She had not felt that she was taking a risk inthus hardily ignoring her own origin; Lard had become to her, asto all Washington, an unreality like a shadowy reminiscence of apossible former sojourn on earth. "I see, " pursued she, "that Ihurt your vanity by my frankness--"

"Not at all! Not at all!" blustered Joshua, still angrier--asMadam Bowker had calculated. 

"Don't misunderstand me, " pursued she tranquilly. "I was simplystating a fact without aspersion. It is the more to your creditthat you have been able to raise yourself up among us--and so veryyoung! You are not more than forty, are you?"

"Thirty-four, " said Craig surlily. He began to feel like a curthat is getting a beating from a hand beyond the reach of itsfangs. "I've had a hard life--"

"So I should judge, " thrust the old lady with gentle sympathy. Itis not necessary to jab violently with a red-hot iron in order tomake a deep burn. 

"But I am the better for it, " continued Craig, eyes flashing andorator lips in action. "And you and your kind--your granddaughterMargaret--would be the better for having faced--for having toface--the realities of life instead of being pampered in luxuryand uselessness. "

"Then why be resentful?" inquired she. "Why not merely pity us?Why this heat and seeming jealousy?"

"Because I love your granddaughter, " replied Craig, the adroit atdebate. "It pains, it angers me to see a girl who might have beena useful wife, a good mother, trained and set to such base uses. "

The old lady admired his skillful parry. "Let us not discussthat, " said she. "We look at life from different points of view. No human being can see beyond his own point of view. Only God seeslife as a whole, sees how its seeming inconsistencies andinjustices blend into a harmony. Your mistake--pardon an oldwoman's criticism of experience upon inexperience--your mistake isthat you arrogate to yourself divine wisdom and set up a personalopinion as eternal truth. "

"That is very well said, admirably said, " cried Craig. MadamBowker would have been better pleased with the compliment had thetone been less gracious and less condescending. 

"To return to the main subject, " continued she. "Your hesitationabout my granddaughter does credit to your manliness and to yoursense. I have known marriages between people of different stationand rank to turn out well--again--"

"That's the second or third time you've made that insinuation, "burst out Craig. "I must protest against it, in the name of myfather and mother, in the name of my country, Mrs. Bowker. It istoo ridiculous! Who are you that you talk about rank and station?What is Margaret but the daughter of a plain human being of afather, a little richer than mine and so a little neareropportunities for education? The claims to superiority of some ofthe titled people on the other side are silly enough when oneexamines them--the records of knavery and thievery andillegitimacy and insanity. But similar claims over here arelaughable at a glance. The reason I hesitate to marry yourdaughter is not to her credit, or to her parents' credit--or toyours. "

Madam Bowker was beside herself with rage at these candid insults, flung at her with all Craig's young energy and in his mosteffective manner; for his crudeness disappeared when he spokethus, as the blackness and roughness of the coal vanish in thefurnace heat, transforming it into beauty and grace of flames. 

"Do I make myself clear?" demanded Craig, his eyes flashingsuperbly upon her. 

"You certainly do, " snapped the old lady, her dignity totteringand a very vulgar kind of human wrath showing uglily in herblazing eyes and twitching nose and mouth and fingers. 

"Then let us have no more of this caste nonsense, " said the youngman. "Forbid your granddaughter to marry or to see me. Send ortake her away. She will thank you a year from now. My thanks willbegin from the moment of release. "

"Yes, you have made yourself extremely clear, " said Madam Bowkerin a suffocating voice. To be thus defied, insulted, outraged, inher own magnificent salon, in her own magnificent presence! "Youmay be sure you will have no further opportunity to exploit yourupstart insolence in my family. Any chance you may have had forthe alliance you have so cunningly sought is at an end. " And shewaved her ebony scepter in dismissal, ringing the bell at the sametime. 

Craig drew himself up, bowed coldly and haughtily, made his exitin excellent style; no prince of the blood, bred to throne rooms, no teacher of etiquette in a fashionable boarding-school couldhave done better. 

CHAPTER XIV

MAGGIE AND JOSH

Wrath is a baseless flame in the intelligent aged; also, Margaret's grandmother was something more than a mere expert insocial craft, would have been woman of the world had notcircumstances compressed her to its petty department offashionable society. Before Craig had cleared the front door shewas respecting him, even as she raged against him. Insolent, impudent, coarsely insulting--yes, all these. But very much a man, a masculine force; with weaknesses, it was true, and his fullmeasure of the low-sprung's obsequious snobbishness; but, for allthat, strong, persistent, concentrated, one who knew the master-art of making his weaknesses serve as pitfalls into which hisenemies were lured, to fall victim to his strength. 

"Yes, he will arrive, " reflected Madam Bowker. "Branch will yethave to serve him. Poor Branch! What a misery for a man to be bornwith a master's mind but with the lack of will and courage thatkeeps a man a servant. Yes, Craig will arrive! . .. What a pity hehas no money. "

But, on second thought, that seemed less a disadvantage. If sheshould let him marry Margaret they would be dependent upon her;she could control them--him--through holding the purse strings. And when that remote time came at which it would please God tocall her from her earthly labors to their eternal reward, shecould transfer the control to Margaret. "Men of his origin arealways weak on the social side, " she reflected. "And it wouldn'tbe in nature for a person as grasping of power as he is not to beeager about money also. "

With the advent of plutocratic fashion respect for officialposition had dwindled at Washington. In Rome in the days when theimperators became mere creatures of the army, the seat of fashionand of power was transferred to the old and rich families alooffrom the government and buying peace and privilege from it. SoWashington's fashionable society has come to realize, even moreclearly than does the rest of the country, that, despite spasmodicstruggles and apparent spurts of reaction, power has passed to theplutocracy, and that officialdom is, as a rule, servant vergingtoward slave. Still, form is a delusion of tenacious hold upon thehuman mind. The old lady's discoveries of Craig's politicalprospects did not warm her toward him as would news that he was inthe way of being vastly rich; but she retained enough of thefading respect for high-titled office to feel that he was not thequite impossibility she had fancied, but was fit to be an aspirantfor an aristocratic alliance. 

"If Margaret doesn't fall in love with him after she marries him, "reflected she, "all may be well. Of course, if she does she'llprobably ruin him and herself, too. But I think she'll have enoughsense of her position, of how to maintain it for herself, and forhim and her children, not to be a fool. "

Meanwhile Craig was also cooling down. He had meant every word hesaid--while he was saying it. Only one self-convinced could havebeen so effective. But, sobering off from his rhetorical debauchin the quiet streets of that majestic quarter, he began to feelthat he had gone farther, much farther, than he intended. 

"I don't see how, in self-respect, I could have said less, "thought he. "And surely the old woman isn't so lost to decencythat she can't appreciate and admire self-respect. "

Still he might have spoken less harshly; might have been a littleconsiderate of the fact that he was not making a stump speech, butwas in the drawing-room of a high-born, high-bred lady. "And gad, she IS a patrician!"

His eyes were surveying the splendid mansions round about--thebeautiful window-gardens--the curtains at the windows, which hehad learned were real lace, whatever that might be, and mostexpensive. Very fine, that way of living! Very comfortable, tohave servants at beck and call, and most satisfactory to thecraving for power--trifles, it is true, but still the substantialand tangible evidence of power. "And it impresses the people, too. We're all snobs at bottom. We're not yet developed enough toappreciate such a lofty abstraction as democracy. "

True, Margaret was not rich; but the old grandmother was. Doubtless, if he managed her right, she would see to it that heand Margaret had some such luxury as these grandly-housed people--"but not too much, for that would interfere with my politicalprogram. " He did not protest this positively; the program seemed, for the moment, rather vague and not very attractive. The mainpoint seemed to be money and the right sort of position among theright sort of people. He shook himself, scowled, muttered: "I am adamn fool! What do _I_ amount to except as I rise in politics andstay risen? I must be mighty careful or I'll lose my point of viewand become a wretched hanger-on at the skirts of these fakers. Forthey are fakers--frauds of the first water! Take their accidentalmoney away from them and they'd sink to be day laborers, most ofthem--and not of much account there. "

He was sorely perplexed; he did not know what to do--what he oughtto do--even what he wanted to do. One thing seemed clear--that hehad gone further than was necessary in antagonizing the old woman. Whether he wanted to marry the girl or not, he certainly did notwish, at this stage of the game, to make it impossible. The wiseplan was to leave the situation open in every direction, so thathe could freely advance or freely retreat as unfolding eventsmight dictate. So he turned in the direction of the Severencehouse, walked at his usual tearing pace, arrived there somewhatwilted of collar and exceedingly dusty of shoe and trouser-leg. 

Greater physical contrast could hardly have been than that betweenhim and Margaret, descending to him in the cool garden where hewas mopping himself and dusting his shoes, all with the samehandkerchief. She was in a graceful walking costume of pale blue, scrupulously neat, perfect to the smallest detail. As she advancedshe observed him with eyes that nothing escaped; and being in oneof her exquisite moods, when the senses are equally quick towelcome the agreeable or to shrink from the disagreeable, she hada sense of physical repugnance. He saw her the instant she cameout of the house. Her dress, its harmony with her delicateness offeature and coloring, the gliding motion of her form combined tothrow him instantly into a state of intoxication. He rushed towardher; she halted, shivered, shrank. "Don't--look at me like that!"she exclaimed half under her breath. 

"And why not? Aren't you mine?" And he seized her, enwrapped herin his arms, pressed his lips firmly upon her hair, her cheek--upon her lips. There he lingered; her eyes closed, her form, hefelt, was yielding within his embrace as though she were about tofaint. 

"Don't--please, " she murmured, when he let her catch her breath. "I--I--can't bear it. "

"Do you love me?" he cried passionately. 

"Let me go!" She struggled futilely in his plowman arms. 

"Say you love me!"

"If you don't let me go I shall hate you!"

"I see I shall have to kiss you until you do love me. "

"Yes--yes--whatever you wish me to say, " she cried, suddenlyfreeing herself by dodging most undignifiedly out of his arms. 

She stood a little way from him, panting, as was he. She frownedfiercely, then her eyes softened, became tender--just why shecould not have explained. "What a dirty boy it is!" she saidsoftly. "Go into the house and ask Williams to take you where youcan make yourself presentable. "

"Not I, " said he, dropping into a seat. "Come, sit here besideme. "

She laughed; obeyed. She even made several light passes at his wetmop of hair. She wondered why it was that she liked to touch him, where a few minutes before she had shrunk from it. 

"I've just been down telling that old grandmother of yours what Ithought of her, " said he. 

She startled. "How did you happen to go there?" she exclaimed. Sheforgot herself so completely that she added imperiously: "I wantedyou to keep away from her until I was ready for you to go. "

"She sent for me, " apologized he. "I went. We came together with abang. She told me I wanted to marry you; I told her YOU wanted tomarry ME. She told me I was low; I told her she was a fraud. Shesaid I was insolent; I said good-afternoon. If I hadn't marchedout rather quickly I guess she'd have had me thrown out. "

Margaret was sitting stone-still, her hands limp in her lap. 

"So you see it's all up, " continued he, with a curious air ofbravado, patently insincere. "And it's just as well. You oughtn'tto marry me. It's a crime for me to have permitted things to gothis far. "

"Perhaps you are right, " replied she slowly and thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are right. "

He made one of his exclamatory gestures, a swift jerk around ofthe head toward her. He had all he could do to restrain himselffrom protesting, without regard to his pretenses to himself and toher. "Do you mean that, Maggie?" he asked with more appeal in hisvoice than he was conscious of. 

"Never call me that again!" she cried. "It's detestable--socommon!"

He drew back as if she had struck him. "I beg your pardon, " hesaid with gentle dignity. "I shall not do it again. Maggie was mymother's name--what she was always called at home. "

She turned her eyes toward him with a kind of horror in them. "Oh, forgive me!" she begged, her clasped hands upon his arm. "I didn'tmean it at all--not at all. It is I that am detestable and common. I spoke that way because I was irritated about something else. "She laid one hand caressingly against his cheek. "You must alwayscall me Maggie--when--when "--very softly--"you love me very, verymuch. I like you to have a name for me that nobody else has. "

He seized her hands. "You DO care for me, don't you?" he cried. 

She hesitated. "I don't quite know, " said she. Then, lessseriously: "Not at all, I'm sure, when you talk of breaking theengagement. I WISH you hadn't seen grandmother!"

"I wish so, too, " confessed he. "I made an ass of myself. "

She glanced at him quickly. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know, " he stammered confusedly. How could he tell her?

"A moment ago you seemed well pleased with what you'd done. "

"Well, I guess I went too far. I wasn't very polite. "

"You never are. "

"I'm going to try to do better. .. . No, I don't think it would bewise for me to go and apologize to her. "

She was looking at him strangely. "Why are you so anxious toconciliate her?"

He saw what a break he had made, became all at once red andinarticulate. 

"What is she to you?" persisted the girl. 

"Nothing at all, " he blustered. "I don't care--THAT"--he snappedhis fingers--"for her opinion. I don't care if everybody in theworld is against our marrying. I want just you--only you. "

"Obviously, " said she with a dry laugh that was highlydisconcerting to him. "I certainly have no fortune--or hope ofone, so far as I know. "

This so astounded, so disconcerted him that he forgot to concealit. "Why, I thought--your grandmother--that is--" He wasremembering, was stammering, was unable to finish. 

"Go on, " she urged, obviously enjoying his hot confusion. 

He became suddenly angry. "Look here, Margaret, " he cried, "youdon't suspect me of--"

She put her fingers on his lips and laughed quietly at him. "You'dbetter run along now. I'm going to hurry away to grandmother, totry to repair the damage you did. " She rose and called, "Lucia!Lucia!" The round, rosy, rather slovenly Miss Severence appearedin the little balcony--the only part of the house in view fromwhere they sat. 

"Telephone the stables for the small victoria, " called Margaret. 

"Mother's out in it, " replied Lucia. 

"Then the small brougham. "

"I want that. Why don't you take the electric?"

"All right. "

Lucia disappeared. Margaret turned upon the deeply-impressedCraig. "What's the matter?" asked she, though she knew. 

"I can't get used to this carriage business, " said he. "I don'tlike it. Where the private carriage begins just there democracyends. It is the parting of the ways. People who are driving haveto look down; people who aren't have to look up. "

"Nonsense!" said Margaret, though it seemed to her to be thetruth. 

"Nonsense, of course, " retorted Craig. "But nonsense rules theworld. " He caught her roughly by the arm. "I warn you now, whenwe--"

"Run along, Josh, " cried she, extricating herself and laughing, and with a wave of the hand she vanished into the shrubbery. Assoon as she was beyond the danger of having to continue thatcurious conversation she walked less rapidly. "I wonder what hereally thinks, " she said to herself. "I wonder what I reallythink. I suspect we'd both be amazed at ourselves and at eachother if we knew. "

Arrived at her grandmother's she had one more and huger cause forwonder. There were a dozen people in the big salon, the old ladypresiding at the tea-table in high good humor. "Ah--here you are, Margaret, " cried she. "Why didn't you bring your young man?"

"He's too busy for frivolity, " replied Margaret. 

"I saw him this afternoon, " continued Madam Bowker, talking asideto her alone when the ripples from the new stone in the pond haddied away. "He's what they call a pretty rough customer. But hehas his good points. "

"You liked him better?" said the astonished Margaret. 

"I disliked him less, " corrected the old lady. "He's not a man anyone"--this with emphasis and a sharp glance at her granddaughter--"likes. He neither likes nor is liked. He's too much of anambition for such petty things. People of purpose divide theirfellows into two classes, the useful and the useless. They seekallies among the useful, they avoid the useless. "

Margaret laughed. 

"Why do you laugh, child? Because you don't believe it?"

Margaret sighed. "No, because I don't want to believe it. "

CHAPTER XV

THE EMBASSY GARDEN PARTY

Craig dined at the Secretary of State's that night, and reveled inthe marked consideration every one showed him. He knew it was notbecause of his political successes, present and impending; in theesteem of that fashionable company his success with Margaretovertopped them. And while he was there, drinking more than wasgood for him and sharing in the general self-complacence, hethought so himself. But waking up about three in the morning, withan aching head and in the depths of the blues, the whole businesstook on again its grimmest complexion. "I'll talk it over againwith Grant, " he decided, and was at the Arkwright house a fewminutes after eight. 

It so happened that Grant himself was wakeful that morning and hadgot up about half-past seven. When Craig came he was letting hisvalet dress him. He sent for Craig to come up to his dressing-room. "You can talk to me while Walter shaves me, " said Grant fromthe armchair before his dressing table. He was spread outluxuriously and Josh watched the process of shaving as if he hadnever seen it before. Indeed, he never had seen a shave in suchpomp and circumstance of silver and gold, of ivory and cut glass, of essence and powder. 

"That's a very ladylike performance for two men to be engaged in, "said he. 

"It's damn comfortable, " answered Grant lazily. 

"Where did you get that thing you've got on?"

"This gown? Oh, Paris. I get all my things of that sort there. Latterly I get my clothes there, too. " "I like that thing, " saidCraig, giving it a patronizing jerk of his head. "It looks cooland clean. Linen and silk, isn't it? Only I'd choose a moreserviceable color than white. And I'd not have a pink silk liningand collar in any circumstances. "

He wandered about the room. 

"Goshalimity!" he exclaimed, peering into a drawer. "You must havea million neckties. And"--he was at the partly open door of ahuge closet--"here's a whole roomful of shirts--and another ofclothes. " He wheeled abruptly upon the smiling, highly-flatteredtenant of the arm-chair. "Grant, how many suits have you got?"

"Blest if I know. How many, Walter?"

"I really cannot say, sir. I know 'em all, but I never counted'em. About seventy or eighty, I should say, not counting extratrousers. "

Craig looked astounded. "And how many shirts, Walter?"

"Oh, several hundred of them, sir. Mr. Grant's most particularabout his linen. "

"And here are boots and shoes and pumps and gaiters and Lord knowswhat and what not--enough to stock a shoe-store. And umbrellas andcanes--Good God, man! How do you carry all that stuff round onyour mind?"

Grant laughed like a tickled infant. All this was as gratifying tohis vanity as applause to Craig's. "Walter looks after it, " saidhe. 

Craig lapsed into silence, stared moodily out of the window. Theidea of his thinking of marrying a girl of Grant's class! What aridiculous, loutish figure he would cut in her eyes! Why, not onlydid he not have the articles necessary to a gentleman's wardrobe, he did not even know the names of them, nor their uses! It was allvery well to pretend that these matters were petty. In a sensethey were. But that sort of trifles played a most important partin life as it was led by Margaret Severence. She'd not think themtrifles. She was probably assuming that, while he was not quite upto the fashionable standard, still he had a gentleman's equipmentof knowledge and of toilet articles. "She'd think me no betterthan a savage--and, damn it! I'm not much above the savage state, as far as this side of life is concerned. "

Grant interrupted his mournful musings with: "Now, if you'llexcuse me, I'll have my bath. "

And, Walter following, he went in at a door to the right, throughwhich Craig had a glimpse of marble walls and floor, of variousarticles of more than Roman luxury. The moments dragged away untilhalf an hour had passed. 

"What the devil!" Josh called out. "What are you doing all thistime?"

"Massage, " responded Grant. "You can come in. "

Craig entered the marble chamber, seated himself on a corner ofthe warmed marble couch on which Grant lay luxuriating in Walter'spowerful massage. "Do you go through this thing often?" demandedhe. 

"Every morning--except when I'm roughing it. You ought to takemassage, Josh. It's great for the skin. "

Craig saw that it was. His own skin, aside from his hands andface, was fairly smooth and white; but it was like sandpaper, hethought, beside this firm, rosy covering of the elegantArkwright's elegant body. "Get through here and send Walter away, "he said harshly. "I want to talk to you. If you don't I'll burstout before him. I can't hold in any longer. "

"Very well. That'll do, Walter, " acquiesced Grant. "And please goand bring us some breakfast. I'll finish dressing afterward. "

As soon as the door closed on the valet, Craig said, "Grant, I'vegot myself into a frightful mess. I want you to help me out ofit. "

Grant's eyes shifted. He put on his white silk pajamas, thrust hisfeet into slippers, tossed the silk-lined linen robe about hisbroad, too square shoulders, and led the way into the other room. Then he said: "Do you mean Margaret Severence?"

"That's it!" exclaimed Craig, pacing the floor. "I've gone and gotmyself engaged--"

"One minute, " interrupted Arkwright in a voice so strange thatJoshua paused and stared at him. "I can't talk to you about that. "

"Why not?"

"For many reasons. The chief one--Fact is, Josh, I've acted like ahowling skunk about you with her. I ran you down to her; tried toget her myself. "

Craig waved his hand impatiently. "You didn't succeed, did you?And you're ashamed of it, aren't you? Well, if I wasted time goinground apologizing for all the things I'd done that I'm ashamed ofI'd have no time left to do decently. So that's out of the way. Now, help me. "

"What a generous fellow you are!"

"Generous? Stuff! I need you. We're going to stay friends. You cando what you damn please--I'll like you just the same. I may swatyou if you get in my way; but as soon as you were out of it--andthat'd be mighty soon and sudden, Grant, old boy--why, I'd befriends again. Come, tell me how I'm to get clear of thisengagement. "

"I can't talk about it to you. "

"Why not?"

"Because I love her. "

Craig gasped: "Do you mean that?"

"I love her--as much as I'm capable of loving anybody. Didn't Itell you so?"

"I believe you did say something of the kind, " admitted Craig. "But I was so full of my own affairs that I didn't pay muchattention to it. Why don't you jump in and marry her?"

"She happens to prefer you. "

"Yes, she does, " said Craig with a complacence that roiledArkwright. "I don't know what the poor girl sees in me, but she'sjust crazy about me. "

"Don't be an ass, Josh!" cried Grant in a jealous fury. 

Craig laughed pleasantly. "I'm stating simple facts. " Then, withabrupt change to earnestness, "Do you suppose, if I were to breakthe engagement, she'd take it seriously to heart?"

"I fancy she could live through it if you could. She probablycares no more than you do. "

"There's the worst of it. I want her, Grant. When I'm with her Ican't tolerate the idea of giving her up. But how in the mischiefcan I marry HER? I'm too strong a dose for a frail, delicatelittle thing like her. "

"She's as tall as you are. I've seen her play athletes to astandstill at tennis. "

"But she's so refined, so--"

"Oh, fudge!" muttered Arkwright. Then louder: "Didn't I tell younot to talk to me about this business?"

"But I've got to do it, " protested Craig. "You're the only one Ican talk to--without being a cad. "

Arkwright looked disgusted. "You love the girl, " he said bitterly, "and she wants you. Marry her. "

"But I haven't got the money. "

Craig was out with the truth at last. "What would we live on? Mysalary is only seventy-five hundred dollars. If I get theAttorney-Generalship it'll be only eight thousand, and I've notgot twenty thousand dollars besides. As long as I'm in politics Ican't do anything at the law. All the clients that pay well areclients I'd not dare have anything to do with--I may have toprosecute them. Grant, I used to think Government salaries weretoo big, and I used to rave against office-holders fattening onthe people. I was crazy. How's a man to marry a LADY and live likea GENTLEMAN on seven or eight thousand a year? It can't be done. "

"And you used to rave against living like a gentleman, " thrustGrant maliciously. 

Craig reddened. "There it is!" he fairly shouted. "I'm going tothe devil. I'm sacrificing all my principles. That's what thismixing with swell people and trying to marry a fashionable lady isdoing for me!"

"You're broadening out, you mean. You're losing your taste fortommy-rot. "

"Not at all, " said Craig surlily and stubbornly. "I'll tell youwhat I'm going to do. I'm going to see the girl to-day and put thewhole case before her. And I want you to back me up. "

"I'll do nothing of the sort, " cried Grant. "How can you ask sucha thing of ME?"

"Yes, you must go with me to-day. "

"I've got an engagement--garden-party at the British Embassy. "

"Going there, are you? . .. Um! . .. Well, we'll see. "

The breakfast came and Craig ate like a ditch-digger--his ownbreakfast and most of Grant's. Grant barely touched the food, lita cigarette, sat regarding the full-mouthed Westerner gloomily. "What DID Margaret see in this man?" thought Grant. "True, shedoesn't know him as well as I do; but she knows him well enough. Talk about women being refined! Why, they've got ostrichstomachs. "

"Do you know, Grant, " said Craig thickly, so stuffed was hismouth, "I think your refined women like men of my sort. I know Ican't bear anything but refined women. Now, you--you've got anostrich stomach. I've seen you quite pleased with women I'd notlay my finger on. Yet most people'd say you were more sensitivethan I. Instead, you're much coarser--except about piffling, piddling, paltry non-essentials. You strain at a gnat and swallowa camel. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if Margaret had penetratedthe fact that your coarseness is in-bred while mine is nearsurface. Women have a surprising way of getting at the bottom ofthings. I'm a good deal like a woman in that respect myself. "

Grant thrust a cigar upon him, got him out of the room and on theway out of the house as quickly as possible. "Insufferableegotist!" he mumbled, by way of a parting kick. "Why do I likehim? Damned if I believe I do!"

He did not dress until late that afternoon, but lay in his rooms, very low and miserable. When he issued forth it was to the garden-party--and immediately he ran into Margaret and Craig, apparentlylying in wait for him. "Here he is!" exclaimed Josh, slapping himenthusiastically on the back. "Grant, Margaret wants to talk withyou. I must run along. " And before either could speak he haddarted away, plowing his way rudely through the crowd. 

Margaret and Grant watched his progress--she smiling, he surly andsneering. "Yet you like him, " said Margaret. 

"In a way, yes, " conceded Arkwright. "He has a certain sort ofmagnetism. " He pulled himself up short. "This morning, " said he, "I apologized to him for my treachery; and here I am at it again. "

"I don't mind, " said Margaret. "It's quite harmless. "

"That's it!" exclaimed Grant in gloomy triumph. "You can't carefor me because you think me harmless. "

"Well, aren't you?"

"Yes, " he admitted, "I couldn't give anybody--at least, not ablase Washington society girl--anything approaching a sensation. Iunderstand the mystery at last. "

"Do you?" said Margaret, with a queer expression in her eyes. "Iwish I did. "

Grant reflected upon this, could make nothing of it. "I don'tbelieve you're really in love with him, " he finally said. 

"Was that what you told him you wished to talk to me about?"

"I didn't tell him I wanted to talk with you, " protested Grant. "He asked me to try to persuade you not to marry him. "

"Well--persuade!"

"To explain how coarse he is. "

"How coarse is he?"

"To dilate on the folly of your marrying a poor man with no moneyprospects. "

"I'm content with his prospects--and with mine through him. "

"Seven or eight thousand a year? Your dresses cost much more thanthat. "

"No matter. "

"You must be in love with him!"

"Women take strange fancies. "

"What's the matter, Rita? What have you in the back of your mind?"

She looked straight at him. "Nothing about YOU. Not the faintest, little shadow of a regret. " And her hazel eyes smiled mirth of thekind that is cruelest from woman to man. 

"How exasperating you are!"

"Perhaps I've caught the habit from my man. "

"Rita, you don't even like me any more. "

"No--candidly--I don't. "

"I deserve it. "

"You do. I can never trust you again. "

He shrugged his shoulders; but he could not pretend that he wasindifferent. "It seems to me, if Josh forgave me you might. "

"I do--forgive. "

"But not even friendship?"

"Not EVEN friendship. "

"You are hard. "

"I am hard. "

"Rita! For God's sake, don't marry that man! You don't love him--you know you don't. At times you feel you can hardly endure him. You'll be miserable--in every way. And I--At least I can give youmaterial happiness. "

She smiled--a cold, enigmatic smile that made her face seem hergrandmother's own peering through a radiant mask of youth. Sheglanced away, around--"Ah! there are mamma and Augusta Burke. "And she left him to join them. 

He wandered out of the garden, through the thronged corridors, into the street, knocking against people, seeing no one, notheeding the frequent salutations. He went to the Wyandotte, toCraig's tawdry, dingy sitting-room, its disorder now apparentlybeyond possibility of righting. Craig, his coat and waistcoat off, his detachable cuffs on the floor, was burrowing into masses ofhuge law-books. 

"Clear out, " said he curtly; "I'm busy. "

Grant plumped himself into a chair. "Josh, " cried he desperately, "you must marry that girl. She's just the one for you. I love her, and her happiness is dear to me. "

Craig gave him an amused look. "However did she persuade you tocome here and say that?" he inquired. 

"She didn't persuade me. She didn't mention it. All she said wasthat she had wiped me off the slate even as a friend. "

Craig laughed uproariously. "THAT was how she did it--eh? She's adeep one. "

"Josh, " said Arkwright, "you need a wife, and she's it. "

"Right you are, " exclaimed Craig heartily. "I'm one of thosesurplus-steam persons--have to make an ass of myself constantly, indulging in the futility of blowing off steam. Oughtn't to do itpublicly--creates false impression. Got to have a wife--no oneelse but a wife always available and bound to be discreet. Outwith you. I'm too busy to talk--even about myself. "

"You will marry her?"

"Like to see anybody try to stop me!"

He pulled Arkwright from the chair, thrust him into the hall, slammed the door. And Arkwright, in a more hopeful frame of mind, went home. "I'll do my best to get back her respect--and my own, "said he. "I've been a dog, and she's giving me the whipping Ideserve. "

CHAPTER XVI

A FIGHT AND A FINISH

In his shrewd guess at Margaret's reason for dealing so summarilywith Arkwright, Craig was mistaken, as the acutest of us usuallyare in attributing motives. He had slowly awakened to the factthat she was not a mere surface, but had also the third dimension--depth, which distinguishes persons from people. Whenever he triedto get at what she meant by studying what she did, he fell intothe common error of judging her by himself, and of making noallowance for the sweeter and brighter side of human nature, whichwas so strong in her that, in happier circumstances, the otherside would have been mere rudiment. 

Her real reason for breaking with Grant was a desire to be whollyhonorable with Craig. She resolved to burn her bridges towardArkwright, to put him entirely out of her mind--as she had notdone theretofore; for whenever she had grown weary of Craig'sharping on her being the aggressor in the engagement and nothimself, or whenever she had become irritated against him throughhis rasping mannerisms she had straightway begun to revolveArkwright as a possible alternative. Craig's personality had sucha strong effect on her, caused so many moods and reactions, thatshe was absolutely unable to tell what she really thought of him. Also, when she was so harassed by doubt as to whether theengagement would end in marriage or in a humiliation of jilting, when her whole mind was busy with the problem of angling himwithin the swoop of the matrimonial net, how was she to findleisure to examine her heart? Whether she wanted him or simplywanted a husband she could not have said. 

She felt that his eccentric way of treating the engagement wouldjustify her in keeping Arkwright in reserve. But she was findingthat there were limits to her ability to endure her own self-contempt, and she sacrificed Grant to her outraged self-respect. Possibly she might have been less conscientious had she not cometo look on Grant as an exceedingly pale and shadowy personality, amere vague expression of well-bred amiability, male becausetrousered, identifiable chiefly by the dollar mark. 

Her reward seemed immediate. There came a day when Craig was alldevotion, was talking incessantly of their future, was never oncedoubtful or even low-spirited. It was simply a question of whenthey would marry--whether as soon as Stillwater fixed his date forretiring, or after Craig was installed. She had to listenpatiently to hours on hours of discussion as to which would be thebetter time. She had to seem interested, though from the viewpointof her private purposes nothing could have been less important. She had no intention of permitting him to waste his life and hersin the poverty and uncertainty of public office, struggling forthe applause of mobs one despised as individuals and would notpermit to cross one's threshold. But she had to let him talk onand on, and yet on. In due season, when she was ready to speak andhe to hear, she would disclose to him the future she had mappedout for him, not before. He discoursed; she listened. At intervalshe made love in his violent, terrifying way; she endured, nowhalf-liking it, now half-hating it and him, but always enduring, passive, as became a modest, inexperienced maiden, and with nevera suggestion of her real thoughts upon her surface. 

It was the morning after one of these outbursts of his, one ofunusual intensity, one that had so worn upon her nerves that, allbut revolted by the sense of sick satiety, she had come perilouslynear to indulging herself in the too costly luxury of telling himprecisely what she thought of him and his conduct. She was in bed, with the blinds just up, and the fair, early-summer worldvisioning itself to her sick heart like Paradise to the excludedPeri at its barred gate. "And if he had given me half a chance I'dhave loved him, " she was thinking. "I do believe in him, andadmire his strength and his way of never accepting defeat. But howcan I--how CAN I--when he makes me the victim of these ruffianmoods of his? I almost think the Frenchman was right who said thatevery man ought to have two wives. . .. Not that at times he doesn'tattract me that way. But because one likes champagne one does notwish it by the cask. A glass now and then, or a bottle--perhaps--"Aloud: "What is it, Selina?"

"A note for you, ma'am, from HIM. It's marked important andimmediate. You told me not to disturb you with those markedimportant, nor with those marked immediate. But you didn't saywhat to do about those marked both. "

"The same, " said Margaret, stretching herself out at full length, and snuggling her head into the softness of her perfumed hair. "But now that you've brought it thus far, let me have it. "

Selina laid it on the silk and swansdown quilt and departed. Margaret forgot that it was there in thinking about a new dressshe was planning, an adaptation of a French model. As she turnedherself it fell to the floor. She reached down, picked it up, opened it, read:

"It's no use. Fate's against us. I find the President is making mymarriage the excuse for not appointing me. How lucky we did notannounce the engagement. This is a final good-by. I shall keep outof your way. It's useless for you to protest. I am doing what isbest for us both. Thank me, and forget me. "

She leaped from the bed with one bound, and, bare of foot and inher nightgown only, rushed to the telephone. She called up theArkwrights, asked for Grant. "Wake him, " she said. "If he is stillin bed tell him Miss Severence wishes to speak to him at once. "

Within a moment Grant's agitated voice was coming over the wire:"Is that you, Rita? What is the matter?"

"Come out here as soon as you can. How long will it be?"

"An hour. I really must shave. "

"In an hour, then. Good-by. "

Before the end of the hour she was pacing her favorite walk in thegarden, impatiently watching the point where he would appear. Atsight of her face he almost broke into a run. "What is it, Margaret?" he cried. 

"What have you been saying to Josh Craig?" she demanded. 

"Nothing, I swear. I've been keeping out of his way. He came tosee me this morning--called me a dozen times on the telephone, too. But I refused him. "

She reflected. "I want you to go and bring him here, " she saidpresently. "No matter what he says, bring him. "

"When?"

"Right away. "

"If I have to use force. " And Grant hastened away. 

Hardly had he gone when Williams appeared, carrying a huge basketof orchids. "They just came, ma'am. I thought you'd like to seethem. "

"From Mr. Arkwright?"

"No, ma'am; Mr. Craig. "

"Craig?" ejaculated Margaret. 

"Yes, Miss Rita. "

"Craig, " repeated Margaret, but in a very different tone--a toneof immense satisfaction and relief. She waved her hand with asmile of amused disdain. "Take them into the house, but not to myroom. Put them in Miss Lucia's sitting-room. "

Williams had just gone when into the walk rushed Grant and Craig. Their faces were so flurried, so full of tragic anxiety thatMargaret, stopping short, laughed out loud. "You two look as ifyou had come to view the corpse. "

"I passed Craig on his way here, " explained Grant, "and took himinto my machine. "

"I was not on my way here, " replied Josh loftily. "I was merelytaking a walk. He asked me to get in and brought me here in spiteof my protests. "

"You were on the road that leads here, " insisted Arkwright withmuch heat. 

"I repeat I was simply taking a walk, " insisted Craig. He had notonce looked at Margaret. 

"No matter, " said Margaret in her calm, distant way. "You may takehim away, Grant. And"--here she suddenly looked at Craig, a cold, haughty glance that seemed to tear open an abysmal gulf betweenthem--"I do not wish to see you again. I am done with you. I havebeen on the verge of telling you so many times of late. "

"Is THAT what you sent Grant after me to tell me?"

"No, " answered she. "I sent him on an impulse to save theengagement. But while he was gone it suddenly came over me thatyou were right--entirely right. I accept your decision. You'reafraid to marry me because of your political future. I'm afraid tomarry you because of my stomach. You--nauseate me. I've been undersome kind of hideous spell. I'm free of it now. I see you as youare. I am ashamed of myself. "

"I thought so! I knew it would come!" exclaimed Arkwrighttriumphantly. 

Craig, who had been standing like a stock, suddenly sprang intoaction. He seized Arkwright by the throat and bore him to theground. "I've got to kill something, " he yelled. "Why not you?"

This unexpected and vulgar happening completely upset Margaret'spride and demolished her dignified pose. She gazed in horror atthe two men struggling, brute-like, upon the grass. Her refinededucation had made no provision for such an emergency. She rushedforward, seized Craig by the shoulders. "Get up!" she criedcontemptuously, and she dragged him to his feet. She shook himfiercely. "Now get out of here; and don't you dare come back!"

Craig laughed loudly. A shrewd onlooker might have suspected fromhis expression that he had deliberately created a diversion ofconfusion, and was congratulating himself upon its success. "Getout?" cried he. "Not I. I go where I please and stay as long as Iplease. "

Arkwright was seated upon the grass, readjusting his collar andtie. "What a rotten coward you are!" he said to Craig, "to take meoff guard like that. "

"It WAS a low trick, " admitted Josh, looking down at him genially. "But I'm so crazy I don't know what I'm doing. "

"Oh, yes, you do; you wanted to show off, " answered Grant. 

But Craig had turned to Margaret again. "Read that, " he commanded, and thrust a newspaper clipping into her hand. It was from one ofthe newspapers of his home town--a paper of his own party, butunfriendly to him. It read:

"Josh Craig's many friends here will be glad to hear that he iscatching on down East. With his Government job as a stepping-stonehe has sprung into what he used to call plutocratic society inWashington, and is about to marry a young lady who is in the veryfront of the push. He will retire from politics, from head-huntingamong the plutocrats, and will soon be a plutocrat and a palace-dweller himself. Success to you, Joshua. The 'pee-pul' have lost afriend--in the usual way. As for us, we've got the right to say, 'I told you so, ' but we'll be good and refrain. "

"The President handed me that last night, " said Craig, when he sawthat her glance was on the last line. "And he told me he haddecided to ask Stillwater to stay on. "

Margaret gave the clipping to Grant. "Give it to him, " she saidand started toward the house. 

Craig sprang before her. "Margaret, " he cried, "can you blame me?"

"No, " said she, and there was no pose in her manner now; it wassincerely human. "I pity you. " She waved him out of her path and, with head bent, he obeyed her. 

The two men gazed after her. Arkwright was first to speak: "Well, you've got what you wanted. "

Craig slowly lifted his circled, bloodshot eyes to Arkwright. "Yes, " said he hoarsely, "I've got what I wanted. "

"Not exactly in the way a gentleman would like to get it, " pursuedGrant. "But YOU don't mind a trifle of that sort. "

"No, " said Craig, "I don't mind a trifle of that sort. 'BounderJosh'--that's what they call me, isn't it?"

"When they're frank they do. "

Craig drew a long breath, shook himself like a man gatheringhimself together after a stunning blow. He reflected a moment. "Come along, Grant. I'm going back in your machine. "

"The driver'll take you, " replied Arkwright stiffly. "I prefer towalk. "

"Then we'll walk back together. "

"We will not!" said Arkwright violently. "And after this morningthe less you say to me the better pleased I'll be, and the lessyou'll impose upon the obligation I'm under to you for havingsaved my life once. "

"You treacherous hound, " said Craig pleasantly. "Where did you getthe nerve to put on airs with me? What would you have done to herin the same circumstances? Why, you'd have sneaked and lied out ofit. And you dare to scorn me because I've been frank and direct!Come! I'll give you another chance. Will you take me back to townin your machine?"

A pause, Craig's fierce gaze upon Grant, Grant's upon the ground. Then Grant mumbled surlily: "Come on. "

When they were passing the front windows of the house Craigassumed that Margaret was hiding somewhere there, peering out atthem. But he was wrong. She was in her room, was face down uponher bed, sobbing as if her first illusion had fallen, had dashedto pieces, crushing her heart under it. 

CHAPTER XVII

A NIGHT MARCH

Arkwright saw no one but his valet-masseur for several days; onthe left side of his throat the marks of Craig's fingers showedeven above the tallest of his extremely tall collars. From thenewspapers he gathered that Margaret had gone to New York on ashopping trip--had gone for a stay of two or three weeks. Whenthe adventure in the garden was more than a week into the past, ashe was coming home from a dinner toward midnight he jumped fromhis electric brougham into Craig's arms. 

"At last!" exclaimed Josh, leading the way up the Arkwright stepsand ringing the bell. Grant muttered a curse under his breath. When the man had opened the door, "Come in, " continued Josh loudlyand cheerily, leading the way into the house. 

"You'd think it was his house, by gad!" muttered Grant. 

"I've been walking up and down before the entrance for an hour. The butler asked me in, but I hate walls and roof. The open forme--the wide, wide open!"

"Not so loud, " growled Arkwright. "The family's in bed. Wait tillwe get to my part of the house. "

When they were there, with doors closed and the lights on, Craigexhaled his breath as noisily as a blown swimmer. "What a day!What a day!" he half-shouted, dropping on the divan and thrustinghis feet into the rich and rather light upholstery of a near-bychair. 

Grant eyed the feet gloomily. He was proud of his furniture and ascareful of it as any old maid. 

"Go ahead, change your clothes, " cried Josh. "I told your motormannot to go away. "

"What do you mean?" Arkwright demanded, his temper boiling at therim of the pot. 

"I told him before you got out. You see, we're going to New Yorkto-night--or rather this morning. Train starts at one o'clock. Imet old Roebuck at the White House to-night--found he was going byspecial train--asked him to take us. "

"Not I, " said Arkwright. "No New York for me. I'm busy to-morrow. Besides, I don't want to go. "

"Of course you don't, " laughed Craig, and Arkwright now noted thathe was in the kind of dizzy spirits that most men can get only bydrinking a very great deal indeed. "Of course you don't. No moredo I. But I've got to go--and so have you. "

"What for?"

"To help me get married. "

Grant could only gape at him. 

"Don't you know Margaret has gone to New York?"

"I saw it in the paper, but--"

"Now, don't go back a week to ancient history. "

"I don't believe it, " foamed Grant, so distracted that he sprangup and paced the floor, making wild gestures with his arms andhead. 

Craig watched, seemed hugely amused. "You'll see, about noon to-morrow. You've got to put in the morning shopping for me. Ihaven't got--You know what sort of a wardrobe mine is. Wardrobe?Hand satchel! Carpet-bag! Rag-bag! If I took off my shoes you'dsee half the toes of one foot and all the heel of the other. Andonly my necktie holds this collar in place. Both buttonholes aregone. As for my underclothes--but I'll spare you these. "

"Yes, do, " said Grant with a vicious sneer. 

"Now, you've got to buy me a complete outfit. " Craig drew a rollof bills from his pocket, counted off several, threw them on thetable. "There's four hundred dollars, all I can afford to waste atpresent. Make it go as far as you can. Get a few first-classthings, the rest decent and substantial, but not showy. I'll payfor the suits I've got to get. They'll have to be ready-made--andvery good ready-made ones a man can buy nowadays. We'll go to thetailor's first thing--about seven o'clock in the morning, which'llgive him plenty of time for alterations. "

"I won't!" exploded Grant, stopping his restless pacing andslamming himself on to a chair. 

"Oh, yes, you will, " asserted Craig, with absolute confidence. "You're not going back on me. "

"There's nothing in this--nothing! I've known Rita Severencenearly twenty years, and I know she's done with you. "

Craig sprang to his feet, went over and laid his heavy handheavily upon Arkwright's shoulder. "And, " said he, "you know me. Did I ever say a thing that didn't prove to be true, no matter howimprobable it seemed to you?"

Arkwright was silent. 

"Grant, " Craig went on, and his voice was gentle and moving, "Ineed you. I must have you. You won't fail me, will you, old pal?"

"Oh, hell!--I'll go, " said Grant in a much-softened growl. "But Iknow it's a wild-goose chase. Still, you do need the clothes. You're a perfect disgrace. "

Craig took away his hand and burst into his noisy, boyishlaughter, so reminiscent of things rural and boorish, of thecoarse, strong spirits of the happy-go-lucky, irresponsibles thatwork as field hands and wood-haulers. "By cracky, Grant, I justgot sight of the remnants of that dig I gave you. It was a beauty, wasn't it?"

Arkwright moved uneasily, fumbled at his collar, tried to smilecarelessly. 

"I certainly am the luckiest devil, " Craig went on. "Now, what astroke pushing you over and throttling you was!" And he againlaughed loudly. 

"I don't follow you, " said Grant sourly. 

"What a vanity box you are! You can't take a joke. Now, they'realways poking fun at me--pretty damn nasty! some of it--but don'tI always look cheerful?"

"Oh--YOU!" exclaimed Grant in disgust. 

"And do you know why?" demanded Craig, giving him a rousing slapon the knee. "When I find it hard to laugh I begin to think of thegreatest joke of all--the joke I'll have on these merry boys whenthe cards are all played and I sweep the tables. I think of that, and, by gosh, I fairly roar!"

"Do you talk that way to convince yourself?"

Craig's eyes were suddenly shrewd. "Yes, " said he, "and toconvince you, and a lot of other weak-minded people who believeall they hear. You'll find out some day that the world thinks withits ears and its mouth, my boy. But, as I say, who but I couldhave tumbled into such luck as came quite accidentally out of thatlittle 'rough-house' of mine at your expense?"

"Don't see it, " said Grant. 

"Why, can't you see that it puts you out of business withMargaret? She's not the sort of woman to take to the fellow thatshows he's the weaker. "

"Well, I'll be--damned!" gasped Arkwright. "You HAVE got yournerve! To say such a thing to a man you've just asked a favor of. "

"Not at all, " cried Craig airily. "Facts are facts. Why denythem?"

Arkwright shrugged his shoulders. "Well, let it pass. .. . Whetherit's settled me with her or not, it somehow--curiously enough--settled her with me. Do you know, Josh, I've had no use for hersince. I can't explain it. "

"Vanity, " said Craig. "You are vain, like all people who don'ttalk about themselves. The whole human race is vain--individuallyand collectively. Now, if a man talks about himself as I do, why, his vanity froths away harmlessly. But you and your kind sufferfrom ingrowing vanity. You think of nothing but yourselves--howyou look--how you feel--how you are impressing others--what youcan get for yourself--self--self--self, day and night. You don'tlike Margaret any more because she saw you humiliated. Where wouldI be if I were like that? Why, I'd be dead or hiding in the brush;for I've had nothing but insults, humiliations, sneers, snubs, allmy life. Crow's my steady diet, old pal. And I fatten and flourishon it. "

Grant was laughing, with a choke in his throat. "Josh, " said he, "you're either more or less than human. "

"Both, " said Craig. "Grant, we're wasting time. Walter!" That lastin a stentorian shout. 

The valet appeared. "Yes, Mr. Craig. "

"Pack your friend Grant, here, for two days in New York. He'sgoing to-night and--I guess you'd better come along. "

Arkwright threw up his hands in a gesture of mock despair. "Do ashe says, Walter. He's the boss. "

"Now you're talking sense, " said Craig. "Some day you'll standbefore kings for this--or sit, as you please. "

On their way out Josh fished from the darkness under the frontstairs a tattered and battered suitcase and handed it to Walter. "It's my little all, " he explained to Grant. "I've given up myrooms at the Wyandotte. They stored an old trunkful or so for me, and I've sent my books to the office. "

"Look here, Josh, " said Grant, when they were under way; "doesMargaret know you're coming?"

"Does Margaret know I'm coming?" repeated Joshua mockingly. "DoesMargaret know her own mind and me? . .. Before I forget it here's alist I wrote out against a lamp-post while I was waiting for youto come home. It's the things I must have, so far as I know. Thefrills and froth you know about--I don't. "

CHAPTER XVIII

PEACE AT ANY PRICE

Miss Severance, stepping out of a Waldorf elevator at the mainfloor, shrank back wide-eyed. "You?" she gasped. 

Before her, serene and smiling and inflexible, was Craig. None ofthe suits he had bought at seven that morning was quite right forimmediate use; so there he was in his old lounge suit, baggy atknees and elbows and liberally bestrewn with lint. Her glance fellfrom his mussy collar to his backwoodsman's hands, to his feet, socheaply and shabbily shod; the shoes looked the worse for theelaborate gloss the ferry bootblack had put upon them. Sheadvanced because she could not retreat; but never had she been sorepelled. 

She had come to New York to get away from him. When she enteredthe train she had flung him out of the window. "I WILL NOT thinkof him again, " she had said to herself. But--Joshua Craig's wasnot the sort of personality that can be banished by an edict ofwill. She could think angrily of him, or disdainfully, or coldly, or pityingly--but think she must. And think she did. She toldherself she despised him; and there came no echoing protest ordenial from anywhere within her. She said she was done with himforever, and well done; her own answer to herself there was, thatwhile she was probably the better off for having got out of theengagement, still it must be conceded that socially the manner ofher getting out meant scandal, gossip, laughter at her. Her cheeksburned as her soul flamed. 

"The vulgar boor!" she muttered. 

Was ever woman so disgraced, and so unjustly? What had the godsagainst her, that they had thus abased her? How Washington wouldjeer! How her friends would sneer! What hope was there now of herever getting a husband? She would be an object of pity and ofscorn. It would take more courage than any of the men of her sethad, to marry a woman rejected by such a creature--and in suchcircumstances!

"He has made everybody think I sought him. Now, he'll telleverybody that he had to break it off--that HE broke it off!"

She ground her teeth; she clenched her hands; she wept and moanedin the loneliness of her bed. She hated Craig; she hated the wholeworld; she loathed herself. And all the time she had to keep upappearances--for she had not dared tell her grandmother--had tolisten while the old lady discussed the marriage as an event ofthe not remote future. 

Why had she not told her grandmother? Lack of courage; hope thatsomething would happen to reveal the truth without her telling. HOPE that something would happen? No, fear. She did not dare lookat the newspapers. But, whatever her reason, it was not any ideathat possibly the engagement might be resumed. No, not that. "Horrible as I feel, " thought she, "I am better off than in thoseweeks when that man was whirling me from one nightmare to another. The peace of desolation is better than that torture of doubt andrepulsion. Whatever was I thinking of to engage myself to such aman? to think seriously of passing my life with him? Poor foolthat I was, to rail against monotony, to sigh for sensations!Well, I have got them. "

Day and night, almost without ceasing, her thoughts had boiled andbubbled on and on, like a geyser ever struggling for outlet andever falling vainly back upon itself. 

Now--here he was, greeting her at the elevator car, smiling andconfident, as if nothing had happened. She did not deign even tostare at him, but, with eyes that seemed to be simply lookingwithout seeing any especial object, she walked straight on. "I'min luck, " cried he, beside her. "I had only been walking up anddown there by the elevators about twenty minutes. "

She made no reply. At the door she said to the carriage-caller:

"A cab, please--no, a hansom. "

The hansom drove up; its doors opened. Craig pushed aside thecarriage man, lifted her in with a powerful upward swing of hisarm against her elbow and side--so powerful that she fell intothe seat, knocking her hat awry and loosening her veil from thebrim so that it hung down distressfully across her eyes and nose. "Drive up Fifth Avenue to the Park, " said Craig, seating himselfbeside her. "Now, please don't cry, " he said to her. 

"Cry?" she exclaimed. Her dry, burning eyes blazed at him. 

"Your eyes were so bright, " laughed he, "that I thought they werefull of tears. "

"If you are a gentleman you will leave this hansom at once. "

"Don't talk nonsense, " said he. "You know perfectly well I'll notleave. You know perfectly well I'll say what I've got to say toyou, and that no power on earth can prevent me. That's why youdidn't give way to your impulse to make a scene when I followedyou into this trap. "

She was busy with her hat and veil. 

"Can I help you?" said he with a great show of politeness that wasridiculously out of harmony with him in every way. That, and theabsurdity of Josh Craig, of all men, helping a woman in thedelicate task of adjusting a hat and veil, struck her as soludicrous that she laughed hysterically; her effort to make thelaughter appear an outburst of derisive, withering scorn was notexactly a triumph. 

"Well, " she presently said, "what is it you wish to say? I havevery little time. "

He eyed her sharply. "You think you dislike me, don't you?" saidhe. 

"I do, " replied she, her tone as cutting as her words were curt. 

"How little that amounts to! All human beings--Grant, you, I, allof us, everybody--are brimful of vanity. It slops over a littleone way and we call it like. It slops over the other way and wecall it dislike--hate--loathing--according to the size of theslop. Now, I'm not here to deal with vanity, but with good sense. Has it occurred to you in the last few days that you and I havegot to get married, whether we will or no?"

"It has not, " she cried with frantic fury of human being corneredby an ugly truth. 

"Oh, yes, it has. For you are a sensible woman--entirely toosensible for a woman, unless she marries an unusual man like me. "

"Is that a jest?" she inquired in feeble attempt at sarcasm. 

"Don't you know I have no sense of humor? Would I do the things Ido and carry them through if I had?"

In spite of herself she admired this penetration of self-analysis. In spite of herself the personality beneath his surface, thepersonality that had a certain uncanny charm for her, was subtlyreasserting its inexplicable fascination. 

"Yes, we've got to marry, " proceeded he. "I have to marry youbecause I can't afford to let you say you jilted me. That wouldmake me the laughing-stock of my State; and I can't afford to tellthe truth that I jilted you because the people would despise me asno gentleman. And, while I don't in the least mind being despisedas no gentleman by fashionable noddle-heads or by those I trampleon to rise, I do mind it when it would ruin me with the people. "

Her eyes gleamed. So! She had him at her mercy!

"Not so fast, young lady, " continued he in answer to that gleam. "It is equally true that you've got to marry me. "

"But I shall not!" she cried. "Besides, it isn't true. "

"It IS true, " replied he. "You may refuse to marry me, just as aman may refuse to run when the dynamite blast is going off. Yes, you can refuse, but--you'd not be your grandmother's granddaughterif you did. "

"Really!" She was so surcharged with rage that she was shakingwith it, was tearing up her handkerchief in her lap. 

"Yes, indeed, " he assured her, tranquil as a lawyer arguing acommercial case before a logic-machine of a judge. "If you do notmarry me all your friends will say I jilted you. I needn't tellyou what it would mean in your set, what it would mean as to yourmatrimonial prospects, for you to have the reputation of havingbeen turned down by me--need I?"

She was silent; her head down, her lips compressed, her fingersfiercely interlaced with the ruins of her handkerchief. 

"It is necessary that you marry, " said he summing up. "It iswisest and easiest to marry me, since I am willing. To refusewould be to inflict an irreparable injury upon yourself in orderto justify a paltry whim for injuring me. "

She laughed harshly. "You are frank, " said she. 

"I am paying you the compliment of frankness. I am appealing toyour intelligence, where a less intelligent man and one that knewyou less would try to gain his point by chicane, flattery, deception. "

"Yes--it is a compliment, " she answered. "It was stupid of me tosneer at your frankness. "

A long silence. He lighted a cigarette, smoked it withdeliberation foreign to his usual self but characteristic of himwhen he was closely and intensely engaged; for he was like athoroughbred that is all fret and champ and pawing and caper untilthe race is on, when he at once settles down into a calm, steadystride, with all the surplus nervous energy applied directly andintelligently to the work in hand. She was not looking at him, butshe was feeling him in every atom of her body, was feeling thepower, the inevitableness of the man. He angered her, made herfeel weak, a helpless thing, at his mercy. True, it was his logicthat was convincing her, not his magnetic and masterful will; butsomehow the two seemed one. Never had he been so repellent, neverhad she felt so hostile to him. 

"I will marry you, " she finally said. "But I must tell you that Ido not love you--or even like you. The reverse. "

His face, of the large, hewn features, with their somehow pathetictraces of the struggles and sorrows of his rise, grew strange, almost terrible. "Do you mean that?" he said, turning slowlytoward her. 

She quickly shifted her eyes, in which her dislike was showing, shifted them before he could possibly have seen. And she tried invain to force past her lips the words which she believed to be thetruth, the words his pathetic, powerful face told her would endeverything. Yes, she knew he would not marry her if she told himthe truth about her feelings. 

"Do you mean that?" he repeated, stern and sharp, yet sad, wistfully sad, too. 

"I don't know what I mean, " she cried, desperately afraid of him, afraid of the visions the idea of not marrying him conjured. "Idon't know what I mean, " she repeated. "You fill me with a kindof--of--horror. You draw me into your grasp in spite of myself--like a whirlpool--and rouse all my instinct to try and savemyself. Sometimes that desire becomes a positive frenzy. "

He laughed complacently. "That is love, " said he. 

She did not resent his tone or dispute his verdict externally. "Ifit is love, " replied she evenly, "then never did love wear sostrange, so dreadful a disguise. "

He laid his talon-hand, hardened and misshapen by manual labor, but if ugly, then ugly with the majesty of the twisted, tempest-defying oak, over hers. "Believe me, Margaret, you love me. Youhave loved me all along. .. . And I you. "

"Don't deceive yourself, " she felt bound to say, "I certainly donot love you if love has any of its generally accepted meanings. "

"I am not the general sort of person, " said he. "It is not strangethat I should arouse extraordinary feelings, is it? Driver"--hehad the trap in the roof up and was thrusting through it a slip ofpaper--"take us to that street and number. "

She gasped with a tightening at the heart. "I must return to thehotel at once, " she said hurriedly. 

He fixed his gaze upon her. "We are going to the preacher's, " saidhe. 

"The preacher's?" she murmured, shrinking in terror. 

"Grant is waiting for us there"--he glanced at his watch--"or, rather, will be there in about ten minutes. We are a littleearlier than I anticipated. "

She flushed crimson, paled, felt she would certainly suffocatewith rage. 

"Before you speak, " continued he, "listen to me. You don't want togo back into that torment of doubt in which we've both beenhopping about for a month, like a pair of damned souls being usedas tennis balls by fiends. Let's settle the business now, and forgood and all. Let us have peace--for God's sake, peace! I knowyou've been miserable. I know I've been on the rack. And it's gotto stop. Am I not right?"

She leaned back in her corner of the cab, shut her eyes, said nomore--and all but ceased to think. What was there to say? What wasthere to think? When Fate ceases to tolerate our pleasant delusionof free will, when it openly and firmly seizes us and hurries usalong, we do not discuss or comment. We close our minds, relax andsubmit. 

At the parsonage he sprang out, stood by to help her descend, half-dragged her from the cab when she hesitated. He shouted atthe driver: "How much do I owe you, friend?"

"Six dollars, sir. "

"Not on your life!" shouted Craig furiously. He turned toMargaret, standing beside him in a daze. "What do you think ofTHAT! This fellow imagines because I've got a well-dressed womanalong I'll submit. But I'm not that big a snob. " He was looking upat the cabman again. "You miserable thief!" he exclaimed. "I'llgive you three dollars, and that's too much by a dollar. "

"Don't you call me names!" yelled the cabman, shaking his fistwith the whip in it. 

"The man's drunk, " cried Josh to the little crowd of people thathad assembled. Margaret, overwhelmed with mortification, tugged athis sleeve. "The man's not overcharging much--if any, " she said inan undertone. 

"You're saying that because you hate scenes, " replied Josh loudly. "You go on into the house. I'll take care of this hound. "

Margaret retreated within the parsonage gate; her very soul wassick. She longed for the ground to open and swallow her forever. It would be bad enough for a man to make such an exhibition at anytime; but to make it when he was about to be married!--and in suchcircumstances!--to squabble and scream over a paltry dollar or so!

"Here's a policeman!" cried Craig. "Now, you thief, we'll see!"

The cabman sprang down from his seat. "You damn jay!" he bellowed. "You don't know New York cabfares. Was you ever to town before--eh?"

Craig beckoned the policeman with vast, excited gestures. Margaretfled up the walk toward the parsonage door, but not before sheheard Craig say to the policeman:

"I am Joshua Craig, assistant to the Attorney-General of theUnited States. This thief here--" And so on until he had told thewhole story. Margaret kept her back to the street, but she couldhear the two fiercely-angry voices, the laughter of the crowd. Atlast Craig joined her--panting, flushed, triumphant. "I knew hewas a thief. Four dollars was the right amount, but I gave himfive, as the policeman said it was best to quiet him. "

He gave a jerk at the knob of parsonage street bell as if he weredetermined to pull it out; the bell within rang loudly, angrily, like the infuriate voice of a sleeper who has been roused with athundering kick. "This affair of ours, " continued Craig, "isgoing to cost money. And I've been spending it to-day like adrunken sailor. The more careful I am, the less careful I willhave to be, my dear. "

The door opened--a maid, scowling, appeared. 

"Come on, " cried Joshua to Margaret. And he led the way, brushingthe maid aside as she stood her ground, attitude belligerent, butexpression perplexed. To her, as he passed, Craig said: "TellDoctor Scones that Mr. Craig and the lady are here. Has Mr. Arkwright come?"

By this time he was in the parlor; a glance around and he burstout:

"Late, by jiminy! And I told him to be here ahead of time. "

He darted to the window. "Ah! There he comes!" He wheeled uponMargaret just as she dropped, half-fainting, into a chair. "What'sthe matter, dear?" He leaped to her side. "No false emotions, please. If you could weather the real ones what's the use ofgetting up ladylike excitement over--"

"For God's sake!" exclaimed Margaret, "sit down and shut up! Ifyou don't I shall scream--scream--SCREAM!"

The maid gaped first at one, then at the other, left themreluctantly to admit Arkwright. As she opened the door she had todraw back a little. There was Craig immediately behind her. Heswept her aside, flung the door wide. "Come on! Hurry!" he criedto Grant. "We're waiting. " And he seized him by the arm and thrusthim into the parlor. At the same instant the preacher entered byanother door. Craig's excitement, far from diminishing, grewwilder and wilder. The preacher thought him insane or drunk. Grantand Margaret tried in vain to calm him. Nothing would do but theceremony instantly--and he had his way. Never was there a moreundignified wedding. When the responses were all said and themarriage was a fact accomplished, so far as preacher couldaccomplish it, Craig seemed suddenly to subside. 

"I should like to go into the next room for a moment, " said thepallid and trembling Margaret. 

"Certainly, " said Doctor Scones sympathetically, and, with afierce scowl at the groom, he accompanied the bride from the room. 

"What a mess you have made!" exclaimed Arkwright indignantly. "You've been acting like a lunatic. "

"It wasn't acting--altogether, " laughed Josh, giving Grant one ofthose tremendous slaps on the back. "You see, it was wise to giveher something else to think about so she couldn't possiblyhesitate or bolt. So I just gave way to my natural feelings. It'sa way I have in difficult situations. "

Grant's expression as he looked at him was a mingling ofadmiration, fear and scorn. "You are full of those petty tricks, "said he. 

"Why petty? Is it petty to meet the requirements of a situation?The situation was petty--the trick had to be. Besides, I tell you, it wasn't a trick. If I hadn't given my nerves an outlet I mighthave balked or bolted myself. I didn't want to have to think anymore than she. "

"You mustn't say those things to me, " objected his friend. 

"Why not? What do I care what you or any one else thinks of ME?And what could you do except simply think? Old pal, you ought tolearn not to judge me by the rules of your little puddle. It's aridiculous habit. " He leaped at the door where Margaret haddisappeared and rapped on it fiercely. 

"Yes--yes--I'm coming, " responded a nervous, pleading, agitatedvoice; and the door opened and Margaret appeared. 

"What shall we do now?" she said to Craig. Grant saw, with anamazement he could scarcely conceal, that for the time, at least, she was quite subdued, would meekly submit to anything. 

"Go to your grandmother, " said Craig promptly. "You attend to thepreacher, Grant. Twenty-five's enough to give him. "

Margaret's cheeks flamed, her head bowed. Grant flushed insympathy with her agony before this vulgarity. And a moment laterhe saw Margaret standing, drooping and resigned, at the curb, while Craig excitedly hailed a cab. "Poor girl!" he muttered, "living with that nightmare-in-breeches will surely kill her--sodelicate, so refined, so sensitive!"

CHAPTER XIX

MADAM BOWKER'S BLESSING

"If you like I'll go up and tell your grandmother, " said Craig, breaking the silence as they neared the hotel. But Margaret'sbrain had resumed its normal function, was making up for the timeit had lost. With the shaking off of the daze had come amazementat finding herself married. In the same circumstances a man wouldhave been incapacitated for action; Craig, who had been soreckless, so headlong a few minutes before, was now timid, irresolute, prey to alarms. But women, beneath the pose whichman's resolute apotheosis of woman as the embodiment ofunreasoning imagination has enforced upon them, are rarely soimaginative that the practical is wholly obscured. Margaret wasaccepting the situation, was planning soberly to turn it to thebest advantage. Obviously, much hung upon this unconventional, this vulgarly-sensational marriage being diplomatically announcedto the person from whom she expected to get an income of her own. "No, " said she to Joshua, in response to his nervously-made offer. "You must wait down in the office while I tell her. At the propertime I'll send for you. "

She spoke friendlily enough, with an inviting suggestion of theircommon interests. But Craig found it uncomfortable even to look ather. Now that the crisis was over his weaknesses were returning;he could not believe he had dared bear off this "delicate, refinedcreature, " this woman whom "any one can see at a glance is apatrician of patricians. " That kind of nervousness as quicklyspreads through every part, moral, mental and physical, of a mannot sure of himself as a fire through a haystack. He could notconceal his awe of her. She saw that something was wrong with him;being herself in no "patrician" mood, but, on the contrary, in amood that was most humanly plebeian, she quite missed the cause ofhis clumsy embarrassment and constraint; she suspected a suddenphysical ailment. "It'll be some time, I expect, " said she. "Don'tbother to hang around. I'll send a note to the desk, and you caninquire--say, in half an hour or so. "

"Half an hour!" he cried in dismay. Whatever should he do withhimself, alone with these returned terrors, and with no Margaretthere to make him ashamed not to give braver battle to them. 

"An hour, then. "

She nodded, shook hands with a blush and a smile, not without itsgleam of appreciation of the queerness of the situation. He liftedhis hat, made a nervous, formal bow and turned away, though no carwas there. As the elevator was starting up with her he camehurrying back. 

"One moment, " he said. "I quite forgot. "

She joined him and they stood aside, in the shelter of a greatwrap-rack. "You can tell your grandmother--it may help to smooththings over--that my appointment as Attorney-General will beannounced day after to-morrow. "

"Oh!" exclaimed she, her eyes lighting up. 

He went on to explain. "As you know, the President didn't want togive it to me. But I succeeded in drawing him into a positionwhere he either had to give it to me or seem to be retiring mebecause I had so vigorously attacked the big rascals he'ssuspected of being privately more than half in sympathy with. "

"She'll be delighted!" exclaimed Margaret. 

"And you?" he asked with awkward wistfulness. 

"I?" said she blushing and dropping her glance. "Is it necessaryfor you to ask?"

She went back to the elevator still more out of humor withherself. She had begun their married life with what was verynearly a--well, it certainly was an evasion; for she cared nothingabout his political career, so soon to end. However, she was gladof the appointment, because the news of it would be useful incalming and reconciling her grandmother. Just as her spirits beganto rise it flashed into her mind: "Why, that's how it happens I'mmarried! If he hadn't been successful in getting the office hewouldn't have come. .. . He maneuvered the President into a positionwhere he had to give him what he wanted. Then he came here andmaneuvered me into a position where _I_ had to give him what hewanted. Always his 'game!' No sincerity or directness anywhere inhim, and very little real courage. " Here she stopped short in thefull swing of pharisaism, smiled at herself in dismal self-mockery. "And what am _I_ doing? Playing MY 'game. ' I'm on my waynow to maneuver my grandmother. We are well suited--he and I. Inanother walk of life we might have been a pair of swindlers, playing into each other's hands. .. . And yet I don't believe we'reworse than most people. Why, most people do these things without athought of their being--unprincipled. And, after all, I'm notharming anybody, am I? That is, anybody but myself. "

She had her campaign carefully laid out; she had mapped it in thecab between the parsonage and the hotel. "Grandmother, " she beganas the old lady looked up with a frown because of her long, unexpected absence, "I must tell you that just before we leftWashington Craig broke the engagement. "

Madam Bowker half-started from her chair. "Broke the engagement!"she cried in dismay. 

"Abruptly and, apparently, finally. I--I didn't dare tell youbefore. "

She so longed for sympathy that she half-hoped the old lady wouldshow signs of being touched by the plight which that situationmeant. But no sign came. Instead, Madam Bowker pierced her withwrathful eyes and said in a furious voice: "This is frightful! Andyou have done nothing?" She struck the floor violently with herstaff. "He must be brought to a sense of honor--of decency! Hemust! Do you hear? It was your fault, I am sure. If he does notmarry you are ruined!"

"He came over this morning, " pursued Margaret. "He wanted to marryme at once. "

"You should have given him no chance to change his mind again, "cried Madam Bowker. "What a trifler you are! No seriousness! Yourintelligence all in the abstract; only folly and fritter for yourown affairs. You should have given him no chance to change!"

Margaret closed in and struck home. "I didn't, " said she tersely. "I married him. "

The old lady stared. Then, as she realized how cleverly Margarethad trapped her, she smiled a grim smile of appreciation andforgiveness. "Come and kiss me, " said she. "You will do something, now that you have a chance. No woman has a chance--no LADY--untilshe is a Mrs. It's the struggle to round that point that wrecks somany of them. "

Margaret kissed her. "And, " she went on, "he has been madeAttorney-General. "

Never, never had Margaret seen such unconcealed satisfaction inher grandmother's face. The stern, piercing eyes softened andbeamed affection upon the girl; all the affection she had deemedit wise to show theretofore always was tempered with sternness. "What a pity he hasn't money, " said she. "Still, it can bemanaged, after a fashion. "

"We MUST have money, " pursued the girl. "Life with him, withoutit, would be intolerable. Poor people are thrown so closelytogether. He is too much for my nerves--often. "

"He's your property now, " Madam Bowker reminded her. "You must notdisparage your own property. Always remember that your husband isyour property. Then your silly nerves will soon quiet down. "

"We must have money, " repeated Margaret. "A great deal of money. "

"You know I can't give you a great deal, " said the old ladyapologetically. "I'll do my best. .. . Would you like to live withme?"

There was something so fantastic in the idea of Joshua Craig andMadam Bowker living under the same roof, and herself trying tolive with them, that Margaret burst out laughing. The old ladyfrowned; then, appreciating the joke, she joined in. "You'll haveto make up your mind to live very quietly. Politics doesn't paywell--not Craig's branch of it, except in honor. He will be veryfamous. "

"Where?" retorted Margaret disdainfully. "Why, with a lot ofpeople who aren't worth considering. No, I am going to take Joshuaout of politics. "

The old lady looked interest and inquiry. 

"He has had several flattering offers to be counsel to bigcorporations. The things he has done against them have made themrespect and want him. I'm going to get him to leave politics andpractice law in New York. Lawyers there--the shrewd ones, likehim--make fortunes. He can still speak occasionally and get allthe applause he wants. Joshua loves applause. "

The old lady was watching her narrowly. 

"Don't you think I'm right, Grandma? I'm telling you because Iwant your opinion. "

"Will he do it?"

Margaret laughed easily. "He's afraid of me. If I manage him wellhe'll do whatever I wish. I can make him realize he has no rightto deprive myself and him of the advantages of my station. "

"Um--um, " said the old lady, half to herself. "Yes--yes--perhaps. Um--um--"

"He will be much more content once he's settled in the new line. Politics as an end is silly--what becomes of the men who stick toit? But politics as a means is sensible, and Joshua has got out ofit about all he can get--about all he needs. "

"He hopes to be President. "

"So do thousands of other men. And even if he should get it howwould we live--how would _I_ live--while we were waiting--andafter it was over? I detest politics--all those vulgar people. "Margaret made a disdainful mouth. "It isn't for our sort ofpeople--except, perhaps, the diplomatic posts, and they, ofcourse, go by 'pull' or purchase. I like the life I've led--thelife you've led. You've made me luxurious and lazy, Grandma. .. . Rather than President I'd prefer him to be ambassadorto England, after a while, when we could afford it. We could havea great social career. "

"You think you can manage him?" repeated Madam Bowker. 

She had been simply listening, her thoughts not showing at thesurface. Her tone was neither discouraging nor encouraging, merelyinterrogative. But Margaret scented a doubt. "Don't you think so?"she said a little less confidently. 

"I don't know. .. . I don't know. .. . It will do no harm to try. "

Margaret's expression was suddenly like a real face from which amask has dropped. "I must do it, Grandma. If I don't I shall--Ishall HATE him! I will not be his servant! When I think of thehumiliations he has put upon me I--I almost hate him now!"

Madam Bowker was alarmed, but was too wise to show it. Shelaughed. "How seriously you take yourself, child, " said she. "Allthat is very young and very theatrical. What do birth and breedingmean if not that one has the high courage to bear what is, afterall, the lot of most women, and the high intelligence to use one'scircumstances, whatever they may be, to accomplish one'sambitions? A lady cannot afford to despise her husband. A lady is, first of all, serene. You talk like a Craig rather than like aSeverance. If he can taint you this soon how long will it bebefore you are at his level? How can you hope to bring him up toyours?"

Margaret's head was hanging. 

"Never again let me hear you speak disrespectfully of yourhusband, my child, " the old lady went on impressively. "And if youare wise you will no more permit yourself to harbor adisrespectful thought of him than you would permit yourself towear unclean underclothes. "

Margaret dropped down at her grandmother's knee, buried her facein her lap. "I don't believe I can ever love him, " she murmured. 

"So long as you believe that, you never can, " said Madam Bowker;"and your married life will be a failure--as great a failure asmine was--as your mother's was. If I had only known what I knownow--what I am telling you--" Madam Bowker paused, and there was along silence in the room. "Your married life, my dear, " she wenton, "will be what you choose to make of it. You have a husband. Never let yourself indulge in silly repinings or ruinous longings. Make the best of what you have. Study your husband, notungenerously and superciliously, but with eyes determined to seethe virtues that can be developed, the faults that can be cured, and with eyes that will not linger on the faults that can't becured. Make him your constant thought and care. Never forget thatyou belong to the superior sex. "

"I don't feel that I do, " said Margaret. "I can't help feelingwomen are inferior and wishing I'd been a man. "

"That is because you do not think, " replied Madam Bowkerindulgently. "Children are the center of life--its purpose, itsfulfillment. All normal men and women want children aboveeverything else. Our only title to be here is as ancestors--toreplace ourselves with wiser and better than we. That makes womanthe superior of man; she alone has the power to give birth. Maninstinctively knows this, and it is his fear of subjection towoman that makes him sneer at and fight against every effort todevelop her intelligence and her independence. If you are a truewoman, worthy of your race and of your breeding, you will neverforget your superiority--or the duties it imposes on you--whatyou owe to your husband and to your children. You are a marriedwoman now. Therefore you are free. Show that you deserve freedomand know how to use it. "

Margaret listened to the old woman with a new respect for her--andfor herself. "I'll try, Grandmother, " she said soberly. "But--itwon't be easy. " A reflective silence, and she repeated, "No, noteasy. "

"Easier than to resist and repine and rage and hunt another manwho, on close acquaintance, would prove even less satisfactory, "replied her grandmother. "Easy--if you honestly try. " She lookeddown at the girl with the sympathy that goes out to inexperiencefrom those who have lived long and thoughtfully and have seen manya vast and fearful bogy loom and, on nearer view, fade into a mistof fancy. "Above all, child, don't waste your strength onimaginary griefs and woes--you'll have none left for the realtrials. "

Margaret had listened attentively; she would remember what the oldlady had said--indeed, it would have been hard to forget words sodirect and so impressively uttered. But at the moment they madesmall impression upon her. She thought her grandmother kindly butcold. In fact, the old lady was giving her as deep commiserationas her broader experience permitted in the circumstances, somesuch commiseration as one gives a child who sees measurelesscalamity in a rainy sky on a long-anticipated picnic morning. 

CHAPTER XX

MR. CRAIG KISSES THE IDOL'S FOOT

Grant Arkwright reached the Waldorf a little less than an hourafter he had seen the bride and groom drive away from DoctorScones'. He found Craig pacing up and down before the desk, hisagitation so obvious that the people about were all intensely andfrankly interested. "You look as if you were going to draw acouple of guns in a minute or so and shoot up the house, " said he, putting himself squarely before Josh and halting him. 

"For God's sake, Grant, " cried Joshua, "see how I'm sweating! Goupstairs--up to their suite, and find out what's the matter. "

"Go yourself, " retorted Grant. 

Craig shook his head. He couldn't confess to Arkwright what wasreally agitating him, why he did not disregard Margaret'sinjunction. 

"What're you afraid of?"

Josh scowled as Grant thus unconsciously scuffed the sore spot. "I'm not afraid!" he cried aggressively. "It's better that youshould go. Don't haggle--go!"

As Grant could think of no reason why he shouldn't, and as he hadthe keenest curiosity to see how the "old tartar" was taking it, he went. Margaret's voice came in response to his knock. "Oh, it'syou, " said she in a tone of relief. 

Her face was swollen and her eyes red. She looked anything butlovely. Grant, however, was instantly so moved that he did notnotice her homeliness. Also, he was one of those unobservantpeople who, having once formed an impression of a person, do notrevise it except under compulsion; his last observation ofMargaret had resulted in an impression of good looks, exceptionalcharm. He bent upon her a look in which understanding sympathy washeavily alloyed with the longing of the covetous man in presenceof his neighbor's desirable possessions. But he discreetly decidedthat he would not put into words--at least, not just yet--hissympathy with her for her dreadful, her tragic mistake. No, itwould be more tactful as well as more discreet to pretend beliefthat her tears had been caused by her grandmother. He glancedround. 

"Where's Madam Bowker?" inquired he. "Did she blow up and bolt?"

"Oh, no, " answered Margaret, seating herself with a dreary sigh. "She's gone to her sitting-room to write with her own hand theannouncement that's to be given out. She says the exact wording isvery important. "

"So it is, " said Grant. "All that's said will take its color fromthe first news. "

"No doubt. " Margaret's tone was indifferent, absent. 

Arkwright hesitated to introduce the painful subject, the husband;yet he had a certain malicious pleasure in doing it, too. "Joshwants to come up, " said he. "He's down at the desk, champing andtramping and pawing holes in the floor. " And he looked at her, tonote the impression of this vivid, adroitly-reminiscent picture. 

"Not yet, " said Margaret curtly and coldly. All of a sudden sheburied her face in her hands and burst into tears. 

"Rita--dear Rita!" exclaimed Grant, his own eyes wet, "I know justhow you feel. Am I not suffering, too? I thought I didn't care, but I did--I do. Rita, it isn't too late yet--"

She straightened; dried her eyes. "Stop that, Grant!" she saidperemptorily. "Stop it!"

His eyes sank. "I can't bear to see you suffer. "

"You don't mean a word of what you've just said, " she went on. "You are all upset, as I am. You are his friend and mine. "Defiantly: "And I love him, and you know I do. "

It was the tone of one giving another something that must berepeated by rote. "That's it, " said he, somewhat sullenly, butwith no hint of protest. "I'm all unstrung, like you, and likehim. "

"And you will forget that you saw me crying. "

"I'll never think of it again. " "Now go and bring him, please. "

He went quickly toward the door. 

"Grant!" she cried. As he turned she rose, advanced with afriendly smile and put out her hand for his. "Thank you, " shesaid. "You have shown yourself OUR best friend. "

"I meant to be, " he answered earnestly, as he pressed her hand. "When I pull myself together I think you'll realize I'm somedecenter than I've seemed of late. "

Madam Bowker came just as he returned with Craig. So all attentionwas concentrated upon the meeting of the two impossibilities. Theold lady took her new relative's hand with a gracious, queenlysmile--a smile that had the effect both of making him grateful andof keeping him "in his place. " Said she, "I have been writing outthe announcement. "

"Thank you, " was Joshua's eager, respectful reply. 

She gave him the sheet of notepaper she was carrying in her lefthand. It was her own private paper, heavy, quiet, rich, engravedwith aristocratic simplicity, most elegant; and most elegant wasthe handwriting. "This, " said she, "is to be given out in additionto the formal notice which Grant will send to the newspapers. "

Craig read:

"Mrs. Bowker announces the marriage of her grand-daughter, Margaret Severence, and Joshua Craig, of Wayne, Minnesota, andWashington, by the Reverend Doctor Scones, at the Waldorf, thismorning. Only a few relatives and Mr. Craig's friend, Mr. GrantArkwright, were present. The marriage occurred sooner than wasexpected, out of consideration for Mrs. Bowker, as she is veryold, and wished it to take place before she left for her summerabroad. "

Craig lifted to the old lady the admiring glance of a satisfiedexpert in public opinion. Their eyes met on an equality; for aninstant he forgot that she figured in his imagination as anythingmore than a human being. "Splendid!" cried he, with heartyenthusiasm. "You have covered the case exactly. Grant, telephonefor an Associated Press reporter and give him this. "

"I'll copy it off for him, " said Grant. 

Madam Bowker and Craig exchanged amused glances. "You'll give itto him in Madam Bowker's handwriting, " ordered Craig. "You toldScones to keep his mouth shut, when you paid him?"

The other three looked conscious, and Margaret reddened slightlyat this coarse brusqueness of phrase. "Yes, " said Grant. "He'llrefuse to be interviewed. I'll go and attend to this. "

"We're having a gala lunch, at once--in the apartment, " said theold lady. "So, come back quickly. "

When he was gone she said to the two: "And now what are yourplans?"

"We have none, " said Craig. 

"I had thought--" began Margaret. She hesitated, colored, went on:"Grandmother, couldn't you get the Millicans' camp in theAdirondacks? I heard Mrs. Millican say yesterday they had got itall ready and had suddenly decided to go abroad instead. "

"Certainly, " said the old lady. "I'll telephone about it at once, and I'll ask the Millicans to lunch with us to-day. "

She left them alone. Craig, eyeing his bride covertly, had a senseof her remoteness, her unattainability. He was like a man who, inan hour of rashness and vanity, has boasted that he can attain acertain mountain peak, and finds himself stalled at its very base. He decided that he must assert himself; he tried to nerve himselfto seize her in his old precipitate, boisterous fashion. He foundthat he had neither the desire to do so nor the ability. He hadnever thought her so full of the lady's charm. That was just thetrouble--the lady's charm, not the human being's; not the charmfeminine for the male. 

"I hope you'll be very patient with me, " said she, with a wansmile. "I am far from well. I've been debating for several dayswhether or not to give up and send for the doctor. "

He did not see her real motive in thus paving the way for theformation of the habit of separate lives; he eagerly believed her, was grateful to her, was glad she was ill. So quaint is theinterweaving of thought, there flashed into his mind at thatmoment: "After all, I needn't have blown in so much money ontrousseau. Maybe I can get 'em to take back those two suits oftwenty-dollar pajamas. Grant went in too deep. " This, because themoney question was bothering him greatly, the situation that wouldarise when his savings should be gone; for now it seemed to him hewould never have the courage to discuss money with her. If shecould have looked in upon his thoughts she would have been wellcontent; there was every indication of easy sailing for her schemeto reconstruct his career. 

"When do you think of starting for the Adirondacks?" he asked, with a timidity of preliminary swallowing and blushing that madeher turn away her face to hide her smile. How completely hers wasthe situation! She felt the first triumphant thrill of her newestate. 

"To-night, " she replied. "We can't put it off. "

"No, we can't put it off, " assented he, hesitation in his voice, gloom upon his brow. "Though, " he added, "you don't look at allwell. " With an effort: "Margaret, are you glad--or sorry?"

"Glad, " she answered in a firm, resolute tone. It became a littlehard in its practicality as she added: "You were quite right. Wetook the only course. "

"You asked me to be a little patient with you, " he went on. 

She trembled; her glance fluttered down. 

"Well--I--I--you'll have to be a little patient with me, too. " Hewas red with embarrassment. She looked so still and cold andrepelling that he could hardly muster voice to go on: "You can'tbut know, in a general sort of way, that I'm uncouth, unaccustomedto the sort of thing you've had all your life. I'm going to do mybest, Margaret. And if you'll help me, and be a little forbearing, I think--I hope--you'll soon find I'm--I'm--oh, you understand. "

She had given a stealthy sigh of relief when she discovered thathe was not making the protest she had feared. "Yes, I understand, "replied she, her manner a gentle graciousness, which in some moodswould have sent his pride flaring against the very heavens inangry scorn. But he thought her most sweet and considerate, andshe softened toward him with pity. It was very, pleasant thus tobe looked up to, and, being human, she felt anything but alessened esteem for her qualities of delicateness and refinement, of patrician breeding, when she saw him thus on his knees beforethem. He had invited her to look down on him, and she wasaccepting an invitation which it is not in human nature todecline. 

There was one subject she had always avoided with him--the subjectof his family. He had not exactly avoided it, indeed, had spokenoccasionally of his brothers and sisters, their wives andhusbands, their children. But his reference to these humblepersons, so far removed from the station to which he had ascended, had impressed her as being dragged in by the ears, as if he wereforcing himself to pretend to himself and to her that he was notashamed of them, when in reality he could not but be ashamed. Shefelt that now was the time to bring up this subject and dispose ofit. 

Said she graciously: "I'm sorry your father and mother aren'tliving. I'd like to have known them. "

He grew red. He was seeing a tiny, unkempt cottage in theoutskirts of Wayne, poor, even for that modest little town. He wasseeing a bent, gaunt old laborer in jeans, smoking a pipe on thedoorsill; he was seeing, in the kitchen-dining-room-sitting-room-parlor, disclosed by the open door, a stout, aggressive-lookinglaborer's wife in faded calico, doing the few thick china dishesin dented dishpan on rickety old table. "Yes, " said he, with not atrace of sincerity in his ashamed, constrained voice, "I wish so, too. "

She understood; she felt sorry for him, proud of herself. Was itnot fine and noble of her thus to condescend? "But there are yourbrothers and sisters, " she went graciously on. "I must meet themsome time. " "Yes, some time, " said he, laboriously pumping a thin, watery pretense of enthusiasm into his voice. 

She had done her duty by his dreadful, impossible family. Shepassed glibly to other subjects. He was glad she had had theladylike tact not to look at him during the episode; he wouldn'thave liked any human being to see the look he knew his face waswearing. 

In the press of agitating events, both forgot the incident--forthe time. 

CHAPTER XXI

A SWOOP AND A SCRATCH

When Molly Stillwater heard that Margaret and her "wild man" hadgone into the woods for their honeymoon she said: "Rita's got totame him and train him for human society. So she's taken him wherethere are no neighbors to hear him scream as--as--" Molly castabout in her stock of slang for a phrase that was vigorous enough--"as she 'puts the boots' to him. "

It was a shrewd guess; Margaret had decided that she could do moretoward "civilizing" him in those few first weeks and in solitudethan in years of teaching at odd times. In China, at the marriagefeast, the bride and the groom each struggle to be first to sit onthe robe of the other; the idea is that the winner willthenceforth rule. As the Chinese have been many ages at thebusiness of living, the custom should not be dismissed toosummarily as mere vain and heathenish superstition. At any rate, Margaret had reasoned it out that she must get the advantage inthe impending initial grapple and tussle of their individualities, or choose between slavery and divorce. With him handicapped by aweof her, by almost groveling respect for her ideas and feelings inall man and woman matters, domestic and social, it seemed to herthat she could be worsted only by a miracle of stupidity on herpart. 

Never had he been so nearly "like an ordinary man--like agentleman"--as when they set out for the Adirondacks. She couldscarcely believe her own eyes, and she warmed to him and felt thatshe had been greatly overestimating her task. He had on one of thesuits he had bought ready made that morning. It was of rough bluecloth--dark blue--most becoming and well draped to show toadvantage his lithe, powerful frame, its sinews so much moremanly-looking than the muscularity of artificially gotprotuberances usually seen in the prosperous classes in ourEastern cities. Grant had selected the suit, had selected all thesuits, and had superintended the fittings. Grant had also selectedthe negligee shirt and the fashionable collar, and the bright, yetnot gaudy, tie, and Grant had selected the shoes that made hisfeet look like feet; and Grant had conducted him to a properbarber, who had reduced the mop of hair to proportion and order, and had restored its natural color and look of vitality by athorough shampooing. In brief, Grant had taken a gloomy pleasurein putting his successful rival through the machine ofcivilization and bringing him out a city man, agreeable to sight, smell and touch. 

"Now, " said he, when the process was finished, "for Heaven's saketry to keep yourself up to the mark. Take a cold bath everymorning and a warm bath before dinner. "

"I have been taking a cold bath every day since I got my privatebathroom, " said Joshua, with honest pride. 

"Then you're just as dirty as the average Englishman. He takes acold bath and fancies he's clean, when in fact he's only clean-looking. Cold water merely stimulates. It takes warm water andsoap to keep a man clean. "

"I'll bear that in mind, " said Craig, with a docility thatflattered Grant as kindly attentions from a fierce-looking dogflatter the timid stranger. 

"And you must take care of your clothes, too, " proceeded thearbiter elegantiarum. "Fold your trousers when you take them off, and have them pressed. Get your hair cut once a week--have aregular day for it. Trim your nails twice a week. I've got you asafety razor. Shave at least once a day--first thing after you getout of bed is the best time. And change your linen every day. Don't think because a shirt isn't downright dirty that you canpass it off for fresh. "

"Just write those things down, " said Josh. "And any others of thesame kind you happen to think of. I hate to think what a state I'dbe in if I hadn't you. Don't imagine I'm not appreciating theself-sacrifice. "

Grant looked sheepish. But he felt that his shame was unwarranted, that he really deserved Craig's tactless praise. So he observedvirtuously: "That's where we men are beyond the women. Now, if itwere one woman fixing up another, the chances are a thousand toone she'd play the cat, and get clothes and give suggestionsthat'd mean ruin. "

It may not speak well for Arkwright's capacity for emotion, but itcertainly speaks well for his amiability and philanthropy thatdoing these things for Craig had so far enlisted him that he wasalmost as anxious as the fluttered and flustered bridegroomhimself for the success of the adventure. He wished he could goalong, in disguise, as a sort of valet and prime minister--to beever near Josh to coach and advise and guide him. For it seemed tohim that success or failure in this honeymooning hung upon thesuccess or failure of Craig in practising the precepts that forGrant and his kind take precedence of the moral code. He spent anearnest and exhausting hour in neatly and carefully writing outthe instructions, as Craig had requested. He performed thisservice with a gravity that would move some people to the samesort of laughter and wonder that is excited by the human doings ofa trained chimpanzee. But Craig--the wild man, the arch foe ofeffeteness, the apostle of the simple life of yarn sock andtallowed boot and homespun pants and hairy jaw--Craig accepted theservice with heartfelt thanks in his shaking voice and moist eye. 

Thus the opening of the honeymoon was most auspicious. Craig, toomuch in awe of Margaret to bother her, and busy about matters thatconcerned himself alone, was a model of caution, restraint andcivility. Margaret, apparently calm, aloof and ladylike, wasreally watching his discreet conduct as a hawk watches a shelteredhen; she began to indulge in pleasant hopes that Joshua's wilddays had come to an abrupt end. Why, he was even restrained inconversation; he did not interrupt her often, instantly apologizedand forebore when he did; he poured out none of his wontedsophomoric diatribes, sometimes sensible, more often inane, as theprattle of a great man in his hour of relaxation is apt to be. Shehad to do most of the talking--and you may be sure that shedirected her conversation to conveying under an appearance oflightness many valuable lessons in the true wisdom of life as itis revealed only to the fashionable idle. She was careful not tooverdo, not to provoke, above all not to put him at his ease. 

Her fiction of ill health, of threatened nervous prostration, alsoserved to free her from an overdose of his society during the longand difficult days in that eventless solitude. He was all forarduous tramps through the woods, for excursions in canoe underthe fierce sun. She insisted on his enjoying himself--"but I don'tfeel equal to any such exertion. I simply must rest and take careof myself. " She was somewhat surprised at his simplicity inbelieving her health was anything but robust, when her appearancegave the lie direct to her hints and regrets. While he was offwith one of the guides she stayed at camp, reading, working atherself with the aid of Selina, revolving and maturing her plans. 

When she saw him she saw him at his best. He showed up especiallywell at swimming. She was a notable figure herself in bathingsuit, and could swim in a nice, ladylike way; but he was a watercreature--indeed, seemed more at home in the water than on land. She liked to watch his long, strong, narrow body cut the surfaceof the transparent lake with no loss of energy in splashing ordisplay--as easy and swift as a fish. She began to fear she hadmade a mistake in selecting a place for her school for a husband, "He's in his element--this wilderness, " thought she, "not mine. I'll take him back with everything still to be done. "

And, worst of all, she found herself losing her sense ofproportion, her respect for her fashionable idols. Those vastwoods, that infinite summer sky--they were giving her a new andfar from practical point of view--especially upon the pettytrickeries and posturings of the ludicrously self-important humanspecks that crawl about upon the earth and hastily begin to actqueer and absurd as soon as they come in sight of each other. Shefound herself rapidly developing that latent "sentimentality"which her grandmother had so often rebuked and warned her against--which Lucia had insisted was her real self. Her imagination beatthe bars of the cage of convention in which she had imprisoned it, and cried out for free, large, natural emotions--those that makethe blood leap and the flesh tingle, that put music in the voiceand softness in the glance and the intense joy of life in theheart. And she began to revolve him before eyes that searchedhopefully for possibilities of his giving her precisely what hernerves craved. 

"It would be queer, wouldn't it, " she mused--she was watching himswim--"if it should turn out that I had come up here to learn, instead of to teach?"

And he--In large presences he was always at his best--in the largesituations of affairs, in these large, tranquillizing horizons ofnature. He, too, began to forget that she was a refined, delicate, sensitive lady, with nerves that writhed under breaks in mannersand could in no wise endure a slip in grammar, unless, of course, it was one of those indorsed by fashionable usage. His health cameflooding and roaring back in its fullness; and day by day thedifficulty of restraining himself from loud laughter and strong, plebeian action became more appalling to him. He would leave thecamp, set off at a run as soon as he got safely out of sight; and, when he was sure of seclusion in distance, he would "cut loose"--yell and laugh and caper like a true madman; tear off hissuperfluous clothes, splash and thresh in some lonely lake like ababy whale that has not yet had the primary lessons in how tobehave. When he returned to camp, subdued in manner, like a badboy after recess, he was, in fact, not one bit subdued beneath thesurface, but the more fractious for his outburst. Each day hisanimal spirits surged higher; each day her sway of awe and respectgrew more precarious. She thought his increasing silence, hisreally ridiculous formality of politeness, his stammering and red-cheeked dread of intrusion meant a deepening of the sense of thesocial gulf that rolled between them. She recalled theirconversation about his relatives. "Poor fellow!" thought she. "Isuppose it's quite impossible for people of my sort to realizewhat a man of his birth and bringing up feels in circumstanceslike these. " Little did she dream, in her exaltation of self-complacence and superiority, that the "poor fellow's" clumsyformalities were the thin cover for a tempest of wild-man's wildemotion. 

Curiously, she "got on" his nerves before he on hers. It wasthrough her habit of rising late and taking hours to dress. Partof his code of conduct--an interpolation of his own into theArkwright manual for a honeymooning gentleman--was that he oughtto wait until she was ready to breakfast, before breakfastinghimself. Several mornings she heard tempestuous sounds round thecamp for two hours before she emerged from her room. She knewthese sounds came from him, though all was quiet as soon as sheappeared; and she very soon thought out the reason for his uproar. Next, his anger could not subdue itself beyond surliness on herappearing, and the surliness lasted through the first part ofbreakfast. Finally, one morning she heard him calling her when shewas about half-way through her leisurely toilette: "Margaret!MARGARET!"

"Yes--what is it?"

"Do come out. You're missing the best part of the day. "

"All right--in a minute. "

She continued with, if anything, a slackening of her exertions;she appeared about an hour after she had said "in a minute. " Hewas ready to speak, and speak sharply. But one glance at her, atthe exquisite toilette--of the woods, yet of the civilizationthat dwells in palaces and reposes languidly upon the exertions ofmenials--at her cooling, subduing eyes, so graciously haughty--andhe shut his lips together and subsided. 

The next morning it was a knock at her door just as she waswaking--or had it waked her? "Yes--what is it?"

"Do come out! I'm half starved. "

The voice was pleading, not at all commanding, not at all theaggressive, dictatorial voice of the Josh Craig of less than amonth before. But it was distinctly reminiscent of that Craig; itwas plainly the first faint murmur, not of rebellion, but of thespirit of rebellion. Margaret retorted with an icily polite, "Please don't wait for me. "

"Yes, I'll wait. But be as quick as you can. "

Margaret neither hastened nor dallied. She came forth at the endof an hour and a half. Josh, to her surprise, greeted her as ifshe had not kept him waiting an instant; not a glance ofsullenness, no suppressed irritation in his voice. Next morningthe knock was a summons. 

"Margaret! I say, Margaret!" came in tones made bold and fierce byhunger. "I've been waiting nearly two hours. "

"For what?" inquired she frigidly from the other side of the door. 

"For breakfast. "

"Oh! Go ahead with it. I'm not even up yet. "

"You've been shut in there ten hours. "

"What of it?" retorted she sharply. "Go away, and don't botherme. "

He had put her into such an ill humor that when she came out, twohours later, her stormy brow, her gleaming hazel eyes showed shewas "looking for trouble. " He was still breakfastless--he wellknew how to manipulate his weaknesses so that his purposes couldcow them, could even use them. He answered her lowering glancewith a flash of his blue-green eyes like lightning from the darkhead of a thunder-cloud. "Do you know it is nine o'clock?"demanded he. 

"So early? I try to get up late so that the days won't seem solong. "

He abandoned the field to her, and she thought him permanentlybeaten. She had yet to learn the depths of his sagacity that nevergave battle until the time was auspicious. 

Two mornings later he returned to the attack. 

"I see your light burning every night until midnight, " said he--atbreakfast with her, after the usual wait. 

"I read myself to sleep, " explained she. 

"Do you think that's good for you?"

"I don't notice any ill effects. "

"You say your health doesn't improve as rapidly as you hoped. "

Check! She reddened with guilt and exasperation. "What a slytrick!" thought she. She answered him with a cold: "I always haveread myself to sleep, and I fancy I always shall. "

"If you went to sleep earlier, " observed he, his air unmistakablythat of the victor conscious of victory, "you'd not keep me raginground two or three hours for breakfast. "

"How often I've asked you not to wait for me! I prefer tobreakfast alone, anyhow. It's the dreadful habit of breakfastingtogether that causes people to get on together so badly. "

"I'd not feel right, " said he, moderately, but firmly, "if Ididn't see you at breakfast. "

She sat silent--thinking. He felt what she was thinking--howcommon this was, how "middle class, " how "bourgeois, " she wascalling it. "Bourgeois" was her favorite word for all that sheobjected to in him, for all she was trying to train out of him bywhat she regarded as most artistically indirect lessons. He feltthat their talk about his family, what he had said, had shown hefelt, was recurring to her. He grew red, burned with shame fromhead to foot. 

"What a fool, what a pup I was!" he said to himself. "If she hadbeen a real lady--no, by gad--a real WOMAN--she'd have shown thatshe despised me. "

Again and again that incident had come back to him. It had been, perhaps, the most powerful factor in his patience with her airsand condescensions. He felt that it, the lowest dip of hisdegradation in snobism, had given her the right to keep him in hisplace. It seemed to him one of those frightful crimes againstself-respect which can never be atoned, and, bad as he thought itfrom the standpoint of good sense as to the way to get on withher, he suffered far more because it was such a stinging, scoffingdenial of all his pretenses of personal pride. "Her sensibilitieshave been too blunted by association with those Washingtonvulgarians, " he reasoned, "for her to realize the enormity of myoffense, but she realizes enough to look down at me morecontemptuously every time she recalls it. " However, the greaterthe blunder the greater the necessity of repairing. He resolutelythrust his self-abasing thoughts to the background of his mind, and began afresh. 

"I'm sure, " said he, "you'd not mind, once you got used to it. "

She was startled out of her abstraction. "Used to--what?" sheinquired. 

"To getting up early. "

"Oh!" She gave a relieved laugh. "Still harping on that. Howpersistent you are!"

"You could accomplish twice as much if you got up early and made aright start. "

She frowned slightly. "Couldn't think of it, " said she, in thetone of one whose forbearance is about at an end. "I hate theearly morning. "

"We usually hate what's best for us. But, if we're sensible, we doit until it becomes a habit that we don't mind--or positivelylike. "

This philosophy of the indisputable and the sensible brimmed themeasure. "What would you think of me, " said she, in herpleasantest, most deliberately irritating way in the world, "if Iwere to insist that you get up late and breakfast late? You shouldlearn to let live as well as to live. You are too fond of tryingto compel everybody to do as you wish. "

"I make 'em see that what I wish is what they ought. That's notcompelling. "

"It's even more unpopular. "

"I'm not looking for popularity, but for success. "

"Well, please don't annoy me in the mornings hereafter. "

"You don't seem to realize you've renounced your foolish idlersand all their ways, and have joined the working classes. " His goodhumor had come back with breakfast; he had finished two largetrout, much bread and marmalade and coffee--and it had given her apleasure that somehow seemed vulgar and forbidden to see him eatso vastly, with such obvious delight. As he made his jest abouther entry into the working classes--she who suggested a queenbee, to employ the labors of a whole army of willing toilers, while she herself toiled not--he was tilted back at his ease, smoking a cigarette and watching the sunbeams sparkle in the wavesof her black hair like jewels showered there. "You're surely quitewell again, " he went on, the trend of his thought so hidden thathe did not see it himself. 

"I don't feel especially well, " said she, instantly on guard. 

He laughed. "You'd not dare say that to yourself in the mirror. You have wonderful color. Your eyes--there never was anything soclear. You were always straight--that was one of the things Iadmired about you. But now, you seem to be straight without theslightest effort--the natural straightness of a sapling. "

This was most agreeable, for she loved compliments, liked todiscover that the charms which she herself saw in herself werereally there. But encouraging such talk was not compatible withthe course she had laid out for herself with him. She continuedsilent and cold. 

"If you'd only go to sleep early, and get up early, and drop allthat the railway train carried us away from, you'd be as happy asthe birds and the deer and the fish. "

"I shall not change my habits, " said she tartly. "I hope you'lldrop the subject. "

He leaned across the table toward her, the same charm now in hisface and in his voice that had drawn her when she first heard himin public speech. "Let's suppose I'm a woodchopper, and you are mywife. We've never been anywhere but just here. We're going to livehere all our lives--just you and I--and no one else--and we don'twant any one else. And we love each other--"

It was very alluring, but there was duty frowning upon heryielding senses. "Please don't let that smoke drift into my face, "said she crossly. "It's choking me. "

He flung away the cigarette. "Beg pardon, " he muttered, betweenanger and humility. "Thought you didn't mind smoking. "

She was ashamed of herself, and grew still angrier. "If you'd onlythink about some one beside yourself once in a while, " said she. "You quite wear people out, with your everlasting thinking andtalking about yourself. "

"You'd better stop that midnight reading, " flared he. "Your temperis going to the devil. "

She rose with great dignity; with an expression that seemed tosend him tumbling and her soaring she went into the house. 

In some moods he would have lain where he fell for quite a while. But his mood of delight in her charms as a woman had completelyeclipsed his deference for her charms as a lady. He hesitated onlya second, then followed her, overtook her at the entrance to herroom. She, hearing him coming, did not face about and put him backin his place with one haughty look. Instead, she in impulsive, most ill-timed panic, quickened her step. When the woman flees, the man, if there be any manhood in him, pursues. He caught her, held her fast. 

"Let me go!" she cried, not with the compelling force of offendeddignity, but with the hysterical ineffectiveness of terror. "Youare rough. You hurt. "

He laughed, turned her about in his arms until she was facing him. "The odor of those pines, out there, " he said, "makes me drunk, and the odor of your hair makes me insane. " And he was kissingher--those fierce, strong caresses that at once repelled andcompelled her. 

"I hate you!" she panted. "I hate you!"

"Oh, no, you don't, " retorted he. "That isn't what's in youreyes. " And he held her so tightly that she was almost crying outwith pain. 

"Please--please!" she gasped. And she wrenched to free herself. One of his hands slipped, his nail tore a long gash in her neck;the blood spurted out, she gave a loud cry, an exaggerated cry--for the pain, somehow, had a certain pleasure in it. He releasedher, stared vacantly at the wound he had made. She rushed into herroom, slammed the door and locked it. 

"Margaret!" he implored. 

She did not answer; he knew she would not. He sat miserably at herdoor for an hour, then wandered out into the woods, and stayedthere until dinner-time. 

When he came in she was sitting by the lake, reading a Frenchnovel. To him, who knew only his own language, there was somethingpeculiarly refined and elegant about her ability at French; hethought, as did she, that she spoke French like a native, though, in fact, her accent was almost British, and her understanding ofit was just about what can be expected in a person who has nevermade a thorough study of any language. As he advanced toward hershe seemed unconscious of his presence. But she was seeing himdistinctly, and so ludicrous a figure of shy and sheepishcontrition was he making that she with difficulty restrained herlaughter. He glanced guiltily at the long, red scratch on thepallid whiteness of her throat. 

"I'm ashamed of myself, " said he humbly. "I'm not fit to touch aperson like you. I--I--"

She was not so mean as she had thought she would be. "It wasnothing, " said she pleasantly, if distantly. "Is dinner ready?"

Once more she had him where she wished--abject, apologetic, conscious of the high honor of merely being permitted to associatewith her. She could relax and unbend again; she was safe from hiscyclones. 

CHAPTER XXII

GETTING ACQUAINTED

Her opportunity definitely to begin her campaign to lift him upout of politics finally came. She had been doing something in thatdirection almost every day. She must be careful not to alarm hisvanity of being absolute master of his own destiny. The idea ofleaving politics and practising law in New York, must seem tooriginate and to grow in his own brain; she would seem to bemerely assenting. Also, it was a delicate matter because the basicreason for the change was money; and it was her cue as a lady, refined and sensitive and wholly free from sordidness, so to actthat he would think her loftily indifferent to money. She hadlearned from dealing with her grandmother that the way to get themost money was by seeming ignorant of money values, a cover behindwhich she could shame Madam Bowker into giving a great deal morethan she would have given on direct and specific demand. Forinstance, she could get more from the old lady than could hermother, who explained just what she wanted the money for and actedas if the giving were a great favor. No, she must never get withhim on a footing where he could discuss money matters frankly withher; she must simply make him realize how attractive luxury was, how necessary it was to her, how confidently she looked to him toprovide it, how blindly, in her ignorance of money and all sordidmatters, she trusted to him to maintain her as a wife such as shemust be maintained. She knew she did not understand himthoroughly--"we've been so differently brought up. " But she feltthat the kind of life that pleased her and dazzled him must be thekind he really wished to lead--and would see he wished to lead, once he extricated himself, with her adroit assistance, from thekind of life to which his vociferous pretenses had committed him. 

Whether her subtleties in furtherance of creating a sane state ofmind in him had penetrated to him, she could not tell. In theearliest step of their acquaintance she had studied him as amatrimonial possibility, after the habit of young women with eachunattached man they add to their list of acquaintances. And shehad then discovered that whenever he was seriously revolving anymatter he never spoke of it; he would be voluble about everythingand anything else under the sun, would seem to be unbosominghimself of his bottommost secret of thought and action, but wouldnot let escape so much as the smallest hint of what was reallyengaging his whole mind. It was this discovery that had set her todisregarding his seeming of colossal, of fatuous egotism, and hadstarted her toward an estimate of him wholly different from thecurrent estimate. Now, was he thinking of their future, or was itsome other matter that occupied his real mind while he talked onand on, usually of himself? She could not tell; she hoped it was, but she dared not try to find out. 

They were at their mail, which one of the guides had just brought. He interrupted his reading to burst out: "How they do tempt a man!Now, there's"--and he struck the open letter in his hand with aflourishing, egotistic gesture--"an offer from the General SteelCompany. They want me as their chief counsel at fifty thousand ayear and the privilege of doing other work that doesn't conflict. "

Fifty thousand a year! Margaret discreetly veiled her glisteningeyes. 

"It's the fourth offer of the same sort, " he went on, "since we'vebeen up here--since it was given out that I'd be Attorney-Generalas soon as old Stillwater retires. The people pay me seventy-fivehundred a year. They take all my time. They make it impossible forme to do anything outside. They watch and suspect and grumble. AndI could be making my two hundred thousand a year or more. "

He was rattling on complacently, patting himself on the back, and, in his effort to pose as a marvel of patriotic self-sacrifice, carefully avoiding any suggestion that mere money seemed to him avery poor thing beside the honor of high office, the direction ofgreat affairs, the flattering columns of newspaper praise andcensure, the general agitation of eighty millions over him. "Sometimes I'm almost tempted to drop politics, " he went on, "andgo in for the spoils. What do you think?"

She was taken completely off guard. She hadn't the faintest notionthat this was his way of getting at her real mind. But she was toofeminine to walk straight into the trap. "I don't know, " said she, with well-simulated indifference, as if her mind were more thanhalf on her own letter. "I haven't given the matter any thought. "Carelessly: "Where would we live if you accepted this offer?"

"New York, of course. You prefer Washington, don't you?"

"No, I believe I'd like New York better. I've a great many friendsthere. While there isn't such a variety of people, the really niceNew Yorkers are the most attractive people in America. And one canlive so well in New York. "

"I'd sink into a forgotten obscurity, " pursued the crafty Joshua. "I'd be nothing but a corporation lawyer, a well-paid fetch-and-carry for the rich thieves that huddle together there. "

"Oh, you'd be famous wherever you are, I'm sure, " replied she withjudicious enthusiasm. "Besides, you'd have fame with the realpeople. "

His head reared significantly. But, to draw her on, he said:"That's true. That's true, " as if reflecting favorably. 

"Yes, I think I'd like New York, " continued she, all unsuspicious. "I don't care much for politics. I hate to think of a man of yourabilities at the mercy of the mob. In New York you could make areally great career. "

"Get rich--be right in the social swim--and you too, " suggestedhe. 

"It certainly is very satisfactory to feel one is of the bestpeople. And I'm sure you'd not care to have me mix up with allsorts, as politicians' wives have to do. "

He laughed at her--the loud, coarse Josh Craig outburst. "You'restark mad on the subject of class distinctions, aren't you?" saidhe. "You'll learn some day to look on that sort of thing as youwould on an attempt to shovel highways and set up sign-posts inthe open sea. Your kind of people are like the children that buildforts out of sand at the seashore. Along comes a wave and washesit all away. .. . You'd be willing for me to abandon my career andbecome a rich nonentity in New York?"

His tone was distinctly offensive. "I don't look at it in thatway, " said she coldly. "Really, I care nothing about it. " And sheresumed the reading of her letter. 

"Do you expect me to believe, " demanded he, excited and angry--"doyou expect me to believe you've not given the subject of ourfuture a thought?"

She continued reading. Such a question in such a tone called forthe rebuke of an ignoring silence. Also, deep down in her nature, down where the rock foundations of courage should have been butwere not, there had begun an ominous trembling. 

"You know what my salary is?"

"You just mentioned it. "

"You know it's to be only five hundred dollars a year more afterJanuary?"

"I knew the Cabinet people got eight thousand. " She was gazingdreamily out toward the purple horizon, seemed as far as itsmountains from worldliness. 

"Hadn't you thought out how we were to live on that sum? You areaware I've practically nothing but my salary. "

"I suppose I ought to think of those things--ought to have thoughtof them, " replied she with a vague, faint smile. "But really--well, we've been brought up rather carelessly--I suppose somepeople would call it badly--and--"

"You take me for a fool, don't you?" he interrupted roughly. 

She elevated her eyebrows. 

"I wish I had a quarter for every row between your people and yourgrandmother on the subject of money. I wish I had a dollar forevery row you and she have had about it. "

He again vented his boisterous laugh; her nerves had not been sorasped since her wedding day. "Come, Margaret, " he went on, "Iknow you've been brought up differently from me. I know I seemvulgar to you in many ways. But because I show you I appreciatethose differences, don't imagine I'm an utter ass. And I certainlyshould be if I didn't know that your people are human beings. "

She looked guilty as well as angry now. She felt she had gone justthe one short step too far in her aristocratic assumptions. 

He went on in the tone of one who confidently expects that therewill be no more nonsense: "When you married me you had some sortof idea how we'd live. "

"I assumed you had thought out those things or you'd not havemarried me, " cried she hotly. In spite of her warnings to herselfshe couldn't keep cool. His manner, his words were so inflammatorythat she could not hold herself from jumping into the mud to dobattle with him. She abandoned her one advantage--high ground; shedescended to his level. "You knew the sort of woman I was, " shepursued. "You undertook the responsibility. I assume you are manenough to fulfill it. "

He felt quite at home with her now. "And you?" rasped he. "Whatresponsibility did YOU undertake?"

She caught her breath, flamed scarlet. 

"Now let us hear what wife means in the dictionary of a lady. Come, let's hear it!"

She was silent. 

"I'm not criticising, " he went on; "I'm simply inquiring. What doyou think it means to be a wife?"

Still she could think of no answer. 

"It must mean something, " urged he. "Tell me. I've got to learnsome time, haven't I?"

"I think, " said she, with a tranquil haughtiness which she hopedwould carry off the weakness of the only reply she could gettogether on such short notice, "among our sort of people the wifeis expected to attend to the social part of the life. "

He waited for more--waited with an expression that suggestedthirst. But no more came. "Is that all?" he inquired, and waitedagain--in vain. "Yes? . .. Well, tell me, where in thunder does thehusband come in? He puts up the cash for the wife to spend indressing and amusing herself--is that all?"

"It is generally assumed, " said she, since she had to saysomething or let the case go against her by default, "that thesocial side of life can be very useful in furthering a man. "

He vented a scornful sound that was like a hoot. "In furthering alick-spittle--yes. But not a MAN!"

"Our ideas on some subjects are hopelessly apart. "

She suddenly realized that this whole conversation had beendeliberately planned by him; that he had, indeed, been debatingwithin himself their future life, and that he had decided that thetime was ripe for a frank talk with her. It angered her that shehad not realized this sooner, that she had been drawn from herposition, had been forced to discuss with him on his own terms andat his own time and in his own manner. She felt all the fieryindignation of the schemer who has been outwitted. 

"Your tone, " said she, all ice, "makes it impossible for a well-bred person to discuss with you. Let us talk of something else, orof nothing at all. "

"No. Let's thresh it out now that we've begun. And do try to keepyour temper. There's no reason for anger. We've got to go back tocivilization. We've got to live after we get there. We want tolive comfortably, as satisfactorily for both as our incomepermits. Now, what shall we do? How shall we invest our eightthousand a year--and whatever your grandmother allows you? I don'tneed much. I'll turn the salary over to you. You're entirelywelcome to all there is above my board and clothes. "

This sounded generous and, so, irritated Margaret the more. "Youknow very well we can't live like decent people on twelve orfifteen thousand a year in Washington. "

"You knew that before you married me. What did you have in mind?"

Silence. 

"Why do you find it difficult to be frank with me?"

His courteous, appealing tone and manner made it impossible toindulge in the lie direct or the lie evasive. She continuedsilent, raging inwardly against him for being so ungenerous, soungentlemanly as to put her in such a pitiful posture, one vastlydifferent from that she had prearranged for herself when "theproper time" came. 

"You had something in mind, " he persisted. "What is it?"

"Grandmother wishes us to live with her, " she said with intent toflank. 

"Would you like that?" he inquired; and her very heart seemed tostand still in horror at his tone. It was a tone that suggestedthat the idea was attractive!

She debated. He must be "bluffing"--he surely must. She ralliedher courage and pushed on: "It's probably the best we can do inthe circumstances. We'd have almost nothing left after we'd paidour rent if we set up for ourselves. Even if I were content topinch and look a frump and never go out, you'd not tolerate it. "

"Nothing could be more galling, " said he, after reflecting, "thanwhat people would say if we lived off your grandmother. No, goingthere is unthinkable. I like her, and we'd get on well together--"

Margaret laughed. "Like two cats drowning in a bag. "

"Not at all, " protested he sincerely. "Your grandmother and Iunderstand each other--better than you and I--at least, betterthan you understand me. However, I'll not permit our beingdependents of hers. "

Margaret had a queer look. Was not her taking enough money fromthe old lady to pay all her personal expenses--was not thatdependence?

"We'll return to that later, " continued he, and she had anuncomfortable sense that he was answering her thought. "To go backto your idea in marrying me. You expected me to leave politics. "

"Why do you think that?" exclaimed she. 

"You told me. "

"_I_!"

"You, yourself. Have you not said you could not live on what I getas a public man, and that if I were a gentleman I'd not expect youto?"

Margaret stared foolishly at this unescapable inference from herown statements and admissions during his cross-examination. Shebegan to feel helpless in his hands--and began to respect him whomshe could not fool. 

"I know, " he went on, "you're too intelligent not to haveappreciated that either we must live on my salary or I must leavepublic life. "

He laughed--a quiet, amused laugh, different from any she had everheard from him. Evidently, Joshua Craig in intimacy was stillanother person from the several Joshua Craigs she already knew. "And, " said he, in explanation of his laughter, "I thought youmarried me because I had political prospects. I fancied you hadreal ambition. .. . I might have known! According to the people ofyour set, to be in that set is to have achieved the summit ofearthly ambition--to dress, to roll about in carriages, to go fromone fussy house to another, from one showy entertainment toanother, to eat stupid dinners, and caper or match picture cardsafterward, to grin and chatter, to do nothing useful or eveninteresting--" He laughed again, one of his old-time, boisterousoutbursts. But it seemed to her to fit in, to be the laughter ofmountain and forest and infinity of space at her and her sillyfriends. "And you picture ME taking permanent part in that show, or toiling to find you the money to do it with. ME! . .. Merelybecause I've been, for a moment, somewhat bedazzled by its cheapglitter. "

Margaret felt that he had torn off the mask and had revealed histrue self. But greater than her interest in this new personalitywas her anger at having been deceived--self-deceived. "You askedme how I'd like to live, " cried she, color high and eyes filledwith tears of rage. "I answered your question, and you growinsulting. "

"I'm doing the best I know how, " said he. 

After a moment she got herself under control. "Then, " asked she, "what have you to propose?"

"I can't tell you just now, " replied he, and his manner was mostdisquieting. "To-morrow--or next day. "

"Don't you think I'm right about it being humiliating for us to goback to Washington and live poorly?"

"Undoubtedly. I've felt that from the beginning. "

"Then you agree with me?"

"Not altogether, " said he. And there was a quiet sternness in hissmile, in his gentle tone, that increased her alarms. "I've beenhoping, rather, " continued he, "that you'd take an interest in mycareer. "

"I do, " cried she. 

"Not in MY career, " replied he, those powerful, hewn features ofhis sad and bitter. "In your own--in a career in which I'd becomeas contemptible as the rest of the men you know--a poor thing likeGrant Arkwright. Worse, for I'd do very badly what he has learnedto do well. "

"To be a well-bred, well-mannered gentleman is no smallachievement, " said she with a sweetness that was designed to turnto gall after it reached him. 

He surveyed her tranquilly. She remembered that look; it was thesame he had had the morning he met her at the Waldorf elevator andtook her away and married her. She knew that the crisis had comeand that he was ready. And she? Never had she felt less capable, less resolute. 

"I've been doing a good deal of thinking--thinking about us--theselast few days--since I inflicted that scratch on you, " said he. "Among other things, I've concluded you know as little about whatconstitutes a real gentleman as I do; also, that you have no ideawhat it is in you that makes you a lady--so far as you are one. "

She glanced at him in fright, and that expression of hers betrayedthe fundamental weakness in her--the weakness that underlies allcharacter based upon the achievements of others, not upon one'sown. Margaret was three generations away from self-reliance. Craig's speech sounded like a deliberate insult, deliberateattempt to precipitate a quarrel, an estrangement. There had beennothing in her training to prepare her for such a rude, courage-testing event as that. 

"Do you remember--it was the day we married--the talk we hadabout my relatives?"

She colored, was painfully embarrassed, strove in vain to concealit. "About your relatives?" she said inquiringly. 

He made an impatient gesture. "I know you remember. Well, if I hadbeen a gentleman, or had known what gentleman meant, I'd neverhave said--or, rather, looked what I did then. If you had knownwhat a gentleman is, if you had been a lady, you'd have beenunable to go on with a man who had shown himself such ablackguard. "

"You are unjust to us both, " she eagerly interrupted. "Joshua--you--"

"Don't try to excuse me--or yourself, " said he peremptorily. "Now, you thought what I showed that day--my being ashamed of honester, straighter--more American--people than you or I will ever be--you thought that was the real me. Thank God, it wasn't. But"--hepointed a fascinating forefinger at her--"it was the me I'd be ifyou had your way. "

She could not meet his eyes. 

"I see you understand, " said he earnestly. "That's a good sign. "

"Yes, I do understand, " said she. Her voice was low and her headwas still hanging. "I'm glad you've said this. I--I respect youfor it. "

"Don't fret about me, " said he curtly. "Fret about your ownmelancholy case. What do your impulses of decent feeling amountto, anyway? An inch below the surface you're all for the othersort of thing--the cheap and nasty. If you could choose thisminute you'd take the poorest of those drawing-room marionettesbefore the finest real man, if he didn't know how to wear hisclothes or had trouble with his grammar. "

She felt that there was more than a grain of truth in this; at anyrate, denial would be useless, as his tone was the tone of settledconviction. 

"We've made a false start, " proceeded he. He rose, lighted acigarette. "We're going to start all over again. I'll tell youwhat I'm going to do about it in a day or two. "

And he strolled away to the landing. She saw him presently enter acanoe; under his powerful, easy stroke it shot away, to disappearbehind the headland. She felt horribly lonely and oppressed--as ifshe would never see him again. "He's quite capable of leaving mehere to find my way back to Washington alone--quite capable!" Andher lip curled. 

But the scorn was all upon the surface. Beneath there was fear andrespect--the fear and respect which those demoralized by unearnedluxury and by the purposeless life always feel when faced bystrength and self-reliance in the crises where externals avail nomore than its paint and its bunting a warship in battle. She knewshe had been treating him as no self-respecting man who knew theworld would permit any woman to treat him. She knew her self-respect should have kept her from treating him thus, even if he, in his ignorance of her world and awe of it, would permit. Butmore than from shame at vain self-abasement her chagrin came fromthe sense of having played her game so confidently, so carelessly, so stupidly that he had seen it. She winced as she recalled howshrewdly and swiftly he had got to the very bottom of her, especially of her selfishness in planning to use him with nothought for his good. Yet so many women thus used their husbands;why not she? "I suppose I began too soon. .. . No, not too soon, buttoo frigidly. " The word seemed to her to illuminate the wholesituation. "That's it!" she cried. "How stupid of me!"

CHAPTER XXIII

WHAT THE MOON SAW AND DID

Physical condition is no doubt the dominant factor in humanthought and action. State of soul is, as Doctor Schulze hasobserved, simply the egotistic human vanity for state of body. Ifthe health of the human race were better, if sickness, the latentand the revealed together, were not all but universal, humanrelations would be wonderfully softened, sweetened and simplified. Indigestion, with its various ramifications, is alone responsiblefor most of the crimes, catastrophes and cruelties, public andprivate discord; for it tinges human thought and vision withpessimistic black or bloody red or envious green or degenerateyellow instead of the normal, serene and invigorating white. Allthe world's great public disturbers have been diseased. As forprivate life, its bad of all degrees could, as to its deep-lying, originating causes, be better diagnosed by physician than bypsychologist. 

Margaret, being in perfect physical condition, was deeplydepressed for only a short time after the immediate cause of hermood ceased to be active. An hour after Joshua had revealedhimself in thunder and lightning, and had gone, she was almostserene again, her hopefulness of healthy youth and her sense ofhumor in the ascendent. Their stay in the woods was drawing to anend. Soon they would be off for Lenox, for her Uncle Dan's, wherethere would be many people about and small, perhaps no, opportunity for direct and quick action and result. She reviewedher conduct and felt that she had no reason to reproach herselffor not having made an earlier beginning in what she now sawshould have been her tactics with her "wild man. " How could she, inexpert, foresee what was mockingly obvious to hindsight? Only byexperiment and failure is the art of success learned. Her originalplan had been the best possible, taking into account her lack ofknowledge of male nature and the very misleading indications ofhis real character she had got from him. In her position would notalmost any one have decided that the right way to move him was byholding him at respectful distance and by indirect talk, with theinevitable drift of events doing the principal work--graduallyawakening him to the responsibilities and privileges which hisentry into a higher social station implied?

But no time must now be lost; the new way, which experience hadrevealed, must be taken forthwith and traveled by forced marches. Before they left the woods she must have led him through all thegradations of domestic climate between their present frosty ifkindly winter, and summer, or, at least, a very balmy spring. Fromwhat she knew of his temperament she guessed that once she beganto thaw he would forthwith whirl her into July. She must beprepared to accept that, however--repellent though the thoughtwas--she assured herself it was most repellent. She prided herselfon her skill at catching and checking herself in self-deception;but it somehow did not occur to her to contrast her ratherlistless previous planning with the energy and interest she atonce put into this project for supreme martyrdom, as she regardedit. 

When he came back that evening she was ready. But not he; hestalked in, sulking and blustering, tired, ignoring her, doing allthe talking himself, and departing for bed as soon as dinner wasover. She felt as if he had repulsed her, though, in fact, herovertures were wholly internal and could not, by any chance, haveimpressed him. Bitter against him and dreading the openhumiliation she would have to endure before she could make one soself-absorbed see what she was about, she put out her light early, with intent to rise when he did and be at breakfast before hecould finish. She lay awake until nearly dawn, then fell into adeep sleep. When she woke it was noon; she felt so greatlyrefreshed that her high good humor would not suffer her to bedeeply resentful against him for this second failure. "No matter, "reflected she. "He might have suspected me if I'd done anything sorevolutionary as appear at breakfast. I'll make my beginning atlunch. "

She was now striving, with some success, to think of him as atyrant whom she, luckless martyr, must cajole. "I'm going the wayof all the married women, " thought she. "They soon find there's nohonorable way to get their rights from their masters, find theysimply have to degrade themselves. " Yes, he was forcing her todegrade herself, to simulate affection when the reverse was in herheart. Well, she would make him pay dearly for it--some day. Meanwhile she must gain her point. "If I don't, I'd better nothave married. To be Mrs. Is something, but not much if I'm thecreature of his whims. "

She put off lunch nearly an hour; but he did not come, did notreappear until dinner was waiting. "I've been over to town, " heexplained, "doing a lot of telegraphing that was necessary. " Hewas in vast spirits, delighted with himself, volubly boastful, sofull of animal health and life and of joy in the prospect of foodand sleep that mental worries were as foreign to him as to thewild geese flying overhead. 

He snuffed the air in which the odor of cooking was mingleddeliciously with the odor of the pines. "If they don't hurry updinner, " said he, "I'll rush in and eat off the stove. We used toat home sometimes. It's great fun. "

She smiled tolerantly. "I've missed you, " said she, and she wastelling herself that this statement of a literal truth was thequintessence of hypocritical cajolery. "You might have taken mealong. "

He gave her a puzzled look. "Oh, " said he finally, "you've beenthinking over what I said. "

This was disconcerting; but she contrived to smile with winningfrankness. "Yes, " replied she. "I've been very wrong, I see. " Shefelt proud of the adroitness of this--an exact truth, yet whollymisleading. 

His expression told her that he was congratulating himself on hiswisdom and success in having given her a sharp talking to; that hewas thinking it had brought her to her senses, had restored herrespect for him, had opened the way for her love for him to beginto show itself--that love which he so firmly believed in, egotistthat he was! Could anything be more infuriating? Yet--after all, what difference did it make, so long as he yielded? And once shehad him enthralled, then--ah, yes--THEN! Meanwhile she mustremember that the first principle of successful deception is self-deception, and must try to convince herself that she was what shewas pretending to be. 

Dinner was served, and he fell to like a harvest hand. As he hadthe habit, when he was very hungry, of stuffing his mouth far toofull for speech, she was free to carry out her little program ofencouraging talk and action. As she advanced from hesitatingcompliment to flattery, to admiring glances, to lingering look, she marveled at her facility. "I suppose ages and ages of dreadfulnecessity have made it second nature to every woman, even the bestof us, " reflected she. If he weren't a handsome, superior man shemight be finding it more difficult; also, no doubt thesurroundings, so romantic, so fitting as background for hisruggedness, were helping her to dexterity and even enthusiasm. 

It was amusing, how she deceived herself--for the harmless self-deceptions of us chronic mummers are always amusing. The fact was, this melting and inviting mood had far more of nature andsincerity in it than there had been in her icy aloofness. Icyaloofness, except in the heroines of aristocratic novels, is astate of mind compatible only with extreme stupidity or with someone of those organic diseases that sour the disposition. Never hadshe been in such health as in that camp, never so buoyant, neverhad merely being alive been so deliciously intoxicating; thescratch he had made on her throat had healed in twenty-four hours, had all but disappeared in seventy-two. Never had she known tosuch a degree what a delight a body can be, the sense of itseagerness to bring to the mind all the glorious pleasures of thesenses. Whatever disinclination she had toward him was altogethera prompting of class education; now that she had let down the barsand released feeling she was in heart glad he was there with her, glad he was "such a MAN of a man. "

The guides made a huge fire down by the shore, and left themalone. They sat by it until nearly ten o'clock, he talkingincessantly; her overtures had roused in him the desire to please, and, instead of the usual monologue of egotism and rant, he pouredout poetry, eloquence, sense and humorous shrewdness. Had he beenfar less the unusual, the great man, she would still have listenedwith a sense of delight, for in her mood that night hispenetrating voice, which, in other moods, she found asinsupportable as a needle-pointed goad, harmonized with the great, starry sky and the mysterious, eerie shadows of forest andmountain and lake close round their huge, bright fire. As theyrose to go in, up came the moon. A broad, benevolent, encouragingface, the face of a matchmaker. Craig put his arm round Margaret. She trembled and thrilled. 

"Do you know what that moon's saying?" asked he. In his voice wasthat exquisite tone that enabled him to make even commonplaceslift great audiences to their feet to cheer him wildly. 

She lifted soft, shining eyes to his. "What?" she inquired underher breath. She had forgotten her schemes, her resentments, hermake-believe of every kind. "What--Joshua?" she repeated. 

"It's saying: 'Hurry up, you silly children, down there! Don't youknow that life is a minute and youth a second?'" And now both hisarms were round her and one of her hands lay upon his shoulder. 

"Life a minute--youth a second, " she murmured. 

"Do you think I'd scratch you horribly if I kissed you--Rita?"

She lowered her eyes but not her face. "You might try--Josh. "

CHAPTER XXIV

"OUR HOUSE IS AFIRE"

Next morning she was up and in her dressing-room and had almostfinished her toilette before he awakened. For the first time inyears--perhaps the first time since the end of her happy girlhoodand the beginning of her first season in Washington society--shefelt like singing. Was there ever such a dawn? Did ever song ofbirds sound so like the voice of eternal youth? Whence had comethis air like the fumes from the winepresses of the gods? And thelight! What colors, what tints, upon mountain and valley andhalcyon lake! And the man asleep in the next room--yes, there WASa Joshua Craig whom she found extremely trying at times; but thatJoshua Craig had somehow resigned the tenancy of the strong, straight form there, had resigned it to a man who was the livingexpression of all that bewitched her in these wilds. 

She laughed softly at her own ecstasy of exaggeration. "The otherJosh will come back, " she reminded herself, "and I must not forgetto be practical. THIS is episodic. " These happy, superhumanepisodes would come, would pass, would recur at intervals; but theroutine of her life must be lived. And if these episodes were torecur the practical must not be neglected. "It's by neglecting thepractical that so many wives come to grief, " reflected she. Andthe first mandate of the practical was that he must be rescuedfrom that vulgar political game, which meant poverty and lowassociations and tormenting uncertainties. He must be got wherehis talents would have their due, their reward. But subtly guidinghim into the way that would be best for him was a far differentmatter from what she had been planning up to last night'smoonrise--was as abysmally separated from its selfish hypocrisy aslove from hate. She would persist in her purpose, but how changedthe motive!

She heard him stirring in her--no, THEIR room. Her face lightedup, her eyes sparkled. She ran to the mirror for a final primpbefore he should see her. She was more than pleased with the imageshe saw reflected there. "I never looked better in my life--neverso well. I'm glad I kept back this particular dress. He's sure tolike it, and it certainly is becoming to me--the best-fittingskirt I ever had--what good lines it has about the hips. " Shestartled at a knock upon the door. She rushed away from themirror. He had small physical vanity himself--she had never knownany one with so little. He had shown that he thought she had novanity of that kind, either, and he would doubtless misunderstandher solicitude about her personal appearance. Anyhow, of allmornings this would be the worst for him to catch her at theglass. 

"Yes?" she called. 

"Margaret, " came in his voice. And, oh, the difference in it!--thenote of tenderness--no, it was not imagination, it was reallythere! Her eyes filled and her bosom heaved. 

"Are you joining me at breakfast?"

"Come in, " cried she. 

When the door did not open she went and opened it. There stood HE!If he had greeted her with a triumphant, proprietorial expressionshe would have been--well, it would have given her a loweredopinion of his sensibility. But his look was just right--dazzled, shy, happy. Nor did he make one of his impetuous rushes. He almosttimidly took her hand, kissed it; and it was she who sought hisshoulder--gladly, eagerly, with a sudden, real shyness. "Margaret, " he said. "Mine--aren't you?"

Here was the Joshua she was to know thenceforth, she felt. ThisJoshua would enable her to understand, or, rather, to disregard, so far as she personally was concerned, the Josh, tempestuous, abrupt, often absurd, whom the world knew. But--As soon as theywent where the guides were, the familiar Josh returned--boyish, boisterous, rather foolish in trying to be frivolous and light. Still--what did it matter? As soon as they should be alone again--

When they set out after breakfast her Joshua still did not return, as she had confidently expected. The obstreperous one remained, the one that was the shrewdly-developed cover for his everlastingscheming mind. "What an unending ass I've been making of myself, "he burst out, "with my silly notions. " He drew a paper from hispocket and handed it to her. "And this infernal thing of Grant'shas been encouraging me in idiocy. "

She read the Arkwright gentleman's gazette and complete guide todress and conduct in the society of a refined gentlewoman. Herimpulse was to laugh, an impulse hard indeed to restrain when shecame to the last line of the document and read in Grant's neat, careful-man's handwriting with heavy underscorings: "Above all, never forget that you are a mighty stiff dose for anybody, andcould easily become an overdose for a refined, sensitive lady. "But prudent foresight made her keep her countenance. "This is allvery sensible, " said she. 

"Sensible enough, " assented he. "I've learned a lot from it. .. . Didyou read that last sentence?"

She turned her face away. "Yes, " she said. 

"That, taken with everything else, all but got me down, " said hesomberly. "God, what I've been through! It came near preventing usfrom discovering that you're not a grand lady but a human being. "His mood veered, and it was he that was gay and she glum; for hesuddenly seized her and subjected her to one of those tumultuousordeals so disastrous to toilette and to dignity and to her senseof personal rights. Not that she altogether disliked; she neverhad altogether disliked, had found a certain thrill in his ruderiotousness. Still, she preferred the other Joshua Craig, HERJoshua, who wished to receive as well as to give. And she wishedthat Joshua, her Joshua, would return. She herself had thoughtthat, so far as she was concerned, those periods of tender andgentle sentiment would be episodic; but it was another thing forhim to think so--and to show it frankly. "I feel as if I'd had anadventure with a bear, " said she, half-laughing, half-resentful. 

"So you did, " declared he; "I'm a bear--and every other sort ofanimal--except rabbit. There's no rabbit in me. Now, your men--theGrant Arkwrights--are all rabbit. "

"At least, " said she, "do refrain from tearing my hair down. Awoman who does her hair well hates to have it mussed. "

"I'll try to remember, " was his careless answer. "As I was aboutto say, our discovery that you are not a lady out of a story-book, but a human being and a very sweet one--it came just in the nickof time. We're leaving here to-night. "

Now she saw the reason for the persistence of the Craig of noiseand bluster--and craft. "To-night?" she exclaimed. "It'simpossible. "

"Yes--we go at five o'clock. Tickets are bought--sleeper sectionengaged--everything arranged. "

"But Uncle Dan doesn't expect us for four days yet. "

"I've sent him a telegram. "

"But I can't pack. "

"Selina can. "

"Impossible in such a little time. "

"Then I'll do it, " said Craig jovially. "I can pack a trunk twiceas quick as any man you ever saw. I pack with my feet as well aswith my hands. "

"It's impossible, " repeated she angrily. "I detest being hurried. "

"Hurried? Why, you've got nine hours to get used to the idea. Ninehours' warning for anything isn't haste. "

"Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" demanded she, coming to afull stop and expecting thus to compel him to face her. But hemarched on. 

"It has been my lifelong habit, " declared he over his shoulder, "to arrange everything before disclosing my plans. You'll find, aswe get on, that it will save you a lot of fretting and debating. "

Reluctantly and with the humiliating sense of helpless secondfiddle she followed him along the rough path. "I loathesurprises, " she said. 

"Then adjust your mind to not being surprised at anything fromme. "

He laughed noisily at his own humor. She was almost hating himagain. He seemed to have eyes in the back of his head; for as sheshot a fiery glance at him he whirled round, shook his forefingermaddeningly at her: "Now listen to me, my dear, " said he, in hisvery worst manner, most aggressive, most dictatorial; "if you hadwanted an ordinary sort of man you should have married one and notme. "

"Don't you think common courtesy required you at least to consultme about such a matter?"

"I do not. If I had I should have done so. I found it wasnecessary that we go. I went ahead and arranged it. If you saw thehouse on fire would you wait till you had consulted me beforeputting it out?"

"But this is entirely different. "

"Not at all. Entirely the same, on the contrary. The talk we hadday before yesterday convinced me that our house is afire. I'mgoing to put it out. " He shut his teeth together with a snap, compressed his lips, gave her one of those quick, positive nods ofhis Viking head. Then he caught her by the arm. "Now, " said hejocosely, "let's go back to camp. You want to do your packing. I've got to go over to the station and telegraph some more. "

She wrenched her arm away pettishly and, with sullen face, accompanied him to the camp. It was all she could do to hide heranger when, in full sight of the guides, he swept her up into hisarms and kissed her several times. Possibly she would have beenreally angered, deeply angered, had she realized that thesecyclones were due, as a rule, not so much to appreciation of heras to the necessity of a strong counter-irritant to a suddenattack of awe of her as a fine lady and doubt of his own abilityto cope with her. "Good-by, Rita, " cried he, releasing her assuddenly as he had seized her and rushing toward the landing. "IfI don't get back till the last minute be sure you're ready. Anything that isn't ready will be left behind--anything oranybody!"

The idea of revolt, of refusing to go, appealed to her first angerstrongly. But, on consideration, she saw that merely asserting herrights would not be enough--that she must train him to respectthem. If she refused to go he would simply leave her; yes, he wasjust the man, the wild man, to do precisely that disgracefulthing. And she would be horribly afraid to spend the night alonein those woods with only the guides and Selina, not to speak offacing the morrow--for he might refuse to take her back! Wherewould she turn in that case? What would her grandmother say? Whowould support her in making such a scandal and giving up a husbandfor reasons that could not be made impressive in words though theywere the best of all reasons in terms of feeling? No, if she gavehim up she would be absolutely alone, condemned on every hand, inthe worst possible position. Then, too, the break was unattractivefor another reason. Though she despised herself for her weakness, she did not wish to give up the man who had given her that briefglimpse of happiness she had dreamed as one dreams animpossibility. Did not wish? Could not--would not--give him up. "I belong to him!" she thought with a thrill of ecstasy and ofdespair. 

"But he'd better be careful!" she grumbled. "If I should begin todislike him there'd be no going back. " And then it recurred to herthat this would be as great a calamity of loss for her as for him--and she went at her packing in a better humor. "I'll explain tohim that I yield this once, but--" There she stopped herself witha laugh. Of what use to explain to him?--him who never listenedto explanations, who did not care a fig why people did as hewished, but was content that they did. As for warning him about"next time"--how ridiculous! She could hear his penetrating, rousing voice saying: "We'll deal with 'next time' when it comes. "

CHAPTER XXV

MRS. JOSHUA CRAIG

"We change at Albany, " said he when they were on the train, aftera last hour of mad scramble, due in part to her tardiness, in themain to the atmosphere of hysteric hustle and bustle he created asa precaution. 

"At Albany!" she exclaimed. "Why, when do we get there?"

"At midnight. "

"At midnight!" It was the last drop in the cup of gall, shethought. "Why, we'd get to Lenox, or to some place where we'd haveto change again, long before morning! Josh, you must be out ofyour senses. It's a perfect outrage!"

"Best I could do, " said he, laughing uproariously and patting heron the back. "Cheer up. You can sleep on my shoulder until we getto Albany. "

"We will go on to New York, " said she stiffly, "and leave fromthere in the morning. "

"Can't do it, " said he. "Must change at Albany. You ought to learnto control your temper over these little inconveniences of life. I've brought a volume of Emerson's essays along and I'll read toyou if you don't want to sleep. "

"I hate to be read aloud to. Joshua, let's go on to New York. Sucha night of horror as you've planned will wear me out. "

"I tell you it's impossible. I've done the best thing in thecircumstances. You'll see. "

Suddenly she sprang up, looked wildly round. "Where's Selina?" shegasped. 

"Coming to-morrow or next day, " replied he. "I sent her to thecamp for some things I forgot. "

She sank back and said no more. Again she was tempted to revoltagainst such imbecile tyranny; and again, as she debated thesituation, the wisdom, the necessity of submitting becameapparent. How would it sound to have to explain to her grandmotherthat she had left him because he took an inconvenient train? "I'dlike to see him try this sort of thing if we'd been married sixmonths instead of six weeks, " she muttered. 

She refused to talk with him, answered him in cold monosyllables. And after dinner, when he produced the volume of Emerson and beganto read aloud, she curtly asked him to be quiet. "I wish tosleep!" snapped she. 

"Do, dear, " urged he. And he put his arm around her. 

"That's very uncomfortable, " said she, trying to draw away. 

He drew her back, held her--and she knew she must either submit ormake a scene. There was small attraction to scene-making with sucha master of disgraceful and humiliating scenes as he. "He wouldn'tcare a rap, " she muttered. "He simply revels in scenes, knowinghe's sure to win out at them as a mongrel in a fight with a"--evenin that trying moment her sense of humor did not leave her--"witha lapdog. "

She found herself comfortable and amazingly content, leaningagainst his shoulder; and presently she went to sleep, he holdingthe book in his free hand and reading calmly. The next thing sheknew he was shaking her gently. "Albany, " he said. "We've got tochange here. "

She rose sleepily and followed him from the car, adjusting her hatas she went. She had thought she would be wretched; instead, shefelt fine as the sharp, night air roused her nerves and freshenedher skin. He led the way into the empty waiting-room; the porterpiled the bags on the bench; she seated herself. "I must send atelegram, " said he, and he went over to the window marked"Telegraph Office. " It was closed. He knocked and rattled, andfinally pounded on the glass with his umbrella handle. 

Her nerves went all to pieces. "Can't you see, " she calledimpatiently, "that there's no one there?"

"There will be some one!" he shouted in reply, and fell topounding so vigorously that she thought the glass would surelybreak. But it did not; after a while the window flew up and anangry face just escaped a blow from the vibrating umbrella handle. A violent altercation followed, the operator raging, but Craigmore uproarious than he and having the further advantage of a moreextensive and more picturesque vocabulary. Finally the operatorsaid: "I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself. Don't you seethere's a lady present?"

"It's my wife, " said Craig. "Now take this message and get it offat once. You should thank me for not having you dismissed. "

The operator read the message. His face changed and he said in asurlily apologetic manner: "I'll send it off right away, Mr. Craig. Anything else?"

"That's all, my friend, " said Josh. He returned to his wife'sside. She was all confusion and doubt again. Here they were backin civilization, and her man of the woods was straightway runningamuck. What should she do? What COULD she do? WHAT had she gotherself into by marrying?

But he was speaking. "My dear, " he was saying in his sharp, insistent voice, that at once aroused and enfeebled the nerves, "Imust talk fast, as the train comes in fifteen or twenty minutes--the train for Chicago--for Minneapolis--for Wayne--for home--OURhome. "

She started up from the seat, pale, quivering, her hands clinchedagainst her bosom. 

"For home, " he repeated, fixing her with his resolute, green-blueeyes. "Please, sit down. "

She sank to the seat. "Do you mean--" she began, but her falteringvoice could not go on. 

"I've resigned from office, " said he, swift and calm. "I've toldthe President I'll not take the Attorney-Generalship. I'vetelegraphed your people at Lenox that we're not coming. And I'mgoing home to run for Governor. My telegrams assure me thenomination, and, with the hold I've got on the people, that meanselection, sure pop. I make my first speech day after to-morrowafternoon--with you on the platform beside me. "

"You are mistaken, " she said in a cold, hard voice. "You--"

"Now don't speak till you've thought, and don't think till Ifinish. As you yourself said, Washington's no place for us--atpresent. Anyhow, the way to get there right is to be sent therefrom the people--by the people. You are the wife of a public man, but you've had no training. "

"I--" she began. 

"Hear me first, " he said, between entreaty and command. "You thinkI'm the one that's got it all to learn. Think again. The littletiddledywinks business that I've got to learn--all the value thereis in the mass of balderdash about manners and dress--I can learnit in a few lessons. You can teach it to me in no time. But whatyou've got to learn--how to be a wife, how to live on a modestincome, how to take care of me, and help me in my career, how tobe a woman instead of, largely, a dressmaker's or a dancing-master's expression for lady-likeness--to learn all that is goingto take time. And we must begin at once; for, as I told you, thehouse is afire. "

She opened her lips to speak. 

"No--not yet, " said he. "One thing more. You've been thinkingthings about me. Well, do you imagine this busy brain of minehasn't been thinking a few things about you? Why, Margaret, youneed me even more than I need you, though I need you more than I'ddare try to tell you. You need just such a man as me to give youdirection and purpose--REAL backbone. Primping and preening incarriages and parlors--THAT isn't life. It's the frosting on thecake. Now, you and I, we're going to have the cake itself. Maybewith, maybe without the frosting. BUT NOT THE FROSTING WITHOUT THECAKE, MARGARET!"

"So!" she exclaimed, drawing a long breath when he had ended. "So!THIS is why you chose that five o'clock train and sent Selinaback. You thought to--"

He laughed as if echoing delight from her; he patted herenthusiastically on the knee. "You've guessed it! Go up head! Ididn't want you to have time to say and do foolish things. "

She bit her lip till the blood came. Ringing in her ears anddefying her efforts to silence them were those words of his aboutthe cake and the frosting--"the cake, maybe with, maybe withoutfrosting; BUT NOT THE FROSTING WITHOUT THE CAKE!" She started tospeak; but it was no interruption from him that checked her, forhe sat silent, looking at her with all his fiery strength of soulin his magnetic eyes. Again she started to speak; and a thirdtime; and each time checked herself. This impossible man, thiscreator of impossible situations! She did not know how to begin, or how to go on after she should have begun. She felt that even ifshe had known what to say she would probably lack the courage tosay it--that final-test courage which only the trained in self-reliance have. The door opened. A station attendant came in out ofthe frosty night and shouted:

"Chicago Express! Express for--Buffalo! Chicago! Minneapolis! St. Paul!--the Northwest!--the Far West! All--a--BOARD!"

Craig seized the handbags. "Come on, my dear!" he cried, gettinginto rapid motion. 

She sat still. 

He was at the door. "Come on, " he said. 

She looked appealingly, helplessly round that empty, lonely, strange station, its lights dim, its suggestions all inhospitable. "He has me at his mercy, " she said to herself, between anger anddespair. "How can I refuse to go without becoming the laughing-stock of the whole world?"

"Come on--Rita!" he cried. The voice was aggressive, but his facewas deathly pale and the look out of his eyes was the call of agreat loneliness. And she saw it and felt it. She braced herselfagainst it; but a sob surged up in her throat--the answer of herheart to his heart's cry of loneliness and love. 

"Chicago Express!" came in the train-caller's warning roar frombehind her, as if the room were crowded instead of tenanted bythose two only. "All aboard! . .. Hurry up, lady, or you'll getleft!"

Get left! . .. Left!--the explosion of that hoarse, ominous voiceseemed to blow Mrs. Joshua Craig from the seat, to sweep her outthrough the door her husband was holding open, and into the trainfor their home. 

THE END